Slow brew. Soft simmer. I can feel it rising up in me. The warm hope of a life opening. It’s not closed fist, hands tied, lips pursed with desperation in making it all work. No. Not now. Not anymore. This story has changed. Life is bubbling up. It’s all on the rise. I can see it spiraling above the heat. Like the mirage of a lake on the burning concrete of phoenix city streets. It takes time to rise up. Slow yet intentional. Small movements into the questions. Those answers you’ve been seeking are after you. Hunting you down and finding you out. Hounding gently at the blood/bones/spirit making you move. Movement. Walk this way. It’s time now, to be you. It’s now the hour of embracing the sacred intent of existence. Sacred doesn’t mean easy. It never has. All things holy have traces of our DNA mixed in with the element of prayer and petition. Blood, sweat, tears. Trust the hard work of becoming. Acknowledge that dirt under your nails. There are blessings to bathe in and harvests to reap. Meditate on that wild whisper that knows you. Trust the small steps toward expansion. Follow the guidance from the brilliance of your breath. Be relentless with your aliveness. Book the trip. Speak the truth. Write your heart out. Break down the walls. Catch the plane. Take that dare your sincere heart won’t give up on. Allow yourself to fall in love with the messiness of your own humanity. Meet your broken bits softly. Feel the fall, yes. Then, live the rise.
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