Who was I to say you weren’t always there? Who was I to say you weren’t a part of everything? Who was I to decide who you were and who you weren’t? Who was I to say you ever stopped teaching me, even when the lessons were unclear?
I didn’t worship you, I worshiped my own mind. What I thought was you was my own shape-shifting projection. Threads of curiosity were only gilded with gold if they brought me joy and power.
But the truth was always there. I could feel you through it all, even as the cacophony of thoughts and feelings was drowning out your voice. I could run away from fear, numb myself with indulgences, overwhelm myself with obligations until I tore myself apart, but you would always catch up to me and point out the pieces.
It was impossible to accept, I thought, that control could not be achieved. I resented that I could not exert my will to guarantee that I could turn my convictions into reality, so I gave up on will and submitted to the idea of a predetermined, chaotic universe. There was a semblance of faithless trust in this, that what was meant to happen would happen, but entitlement is a bitch. There was much left to be desired from meaning derived from perspective alone.
If I could just generate enough good karma, I’d get everything I wanted. If I was selfless and kind enough, I’d receive the connection I deserved. If I was successful enough, I could have all the pleasure that I craved. But I never stopped to listen, really listen. And when I thought I’d slowed down enough, I misconstrued the message.
Well, now I’m here, and I can hear. This time I’m all ears. No projections, no objections, just trust, love, and connection.
I am yours for the shaping.
