January | 2016 | Under The Blue Door

to the impulsive child
to the daughter who was criticized more than praised
to the son who was told to stop crying
to the weird shaped star stumbling through the universe to the sound of the ghosts of your past:
who won’t stop chattering about being careful
who won’t stop warning
who won’t stop being concerned
who won’t stop telling you this isn’t how life is lived
who keeps saying to work harder
sweat more blood
but hold some of those cards back

to you, the one who felt so different
but tried anyway
to be like the other kids
because it was safer
because you were fed fear instead of the honey of the gods

maybe they saw a glimpse of your light
and it scared them
for sure they were just handing you what was handed to them

it was never you
ever, ever, ever

and now here you are
a Grown Up
and you feel your heart threatening to take you on a wild ride
you hear the wolf’s howl
the roar of the lion
the trump of the elephant
it’s shaking your bones

so you stumble toward that
and you say THIS. This is me
but you keep falling in that pit
you keep hearing those voices
Don’t go too far.
Don’t draw too much attention to yourself.
Don’t be such a narcissist.
Don’t make people too uncomfortable.
Remember that one time when you fucked everything up?
Because you have some very real issues.
But do you? What is beneath them? Who told you that?

Didn’t you just do what you could in every moment of your life?

I’m telling you right now:

you. are. not. broken.

you are not too much this or that

you, in fact, can believe what you want.
it is your birthright.
No one can tell you what to do.
Or how to be.
Or what to believe.
And furthermore, you are a cycle breaker
you are a renegade
against generations of fear based living

Stand up right this minute
and know that I see you
because I see me, too.
I see your magnificence.
You don’t belong here, it’s true.

You belong to the world that is waiting for you to see yourself for who you are.

Glorious. Magic. Powerful. Perfect. Just. As. You. Fucking. Are.

Period. Let that sink in awhile.

~ Art and words by Carrie Hilgert