Waves lap up my naked belly. I lie in my bed.  I don’t know why the ocean is here. I am trying to find myself.

I open my legs. My breasts float. I taste salt. I believe in love, our own natural pace, slow revealing. I am deeply involved in my relationships with life, health and my body. I may not be moving through space, but I am moving through time.

The wind picks up. I close my eyes and hold my breathe. The waves crash against my head. I am looking for oneness, losing my identity, seeking the lost pieces of my self.  The voices inside my body, echoing constantly, screaming smallness. These waves drown out the self hatred. I don’t know why voices in my head would spend a lifetime trying to convince me that everybody hates me. Yet, I don’t give up. I insist on freedom for my mind, my body, my soul, my being. I am looking to language the something deeper inside my unique cells, the way life chooses to unfold uniquely from the stories around me, how to fully express my unique self.

I look around. My bed is gone. I see a pair of clown fish dancing amongst the arms of a fat pink sea anemone. I’ve learned to trust nature as a code in action: being a missing piece of the universe’s love story.

I close my eyes and let the ocean be the same source of transformation for me and my people on planet earth during this sixth mass extinction as it was for the bacteria facing the first mass extinction. It is an intimate relationship we have with this universe; this growth I seek benefits not only its evolution, but the evolution of the multiverse; my inner work is like a new cholorophyll.

Can I truly learn the courage to allow the true love that brought us into being into my own wet flesh?

This question arises in me, changing everything. I open my eyes, feeling again the dry bed supporting my body, finding myself staring at the pulsing glow of  headlights across my ceiling.

I wrap my arms around my body, feeling a new ok with me, like something invisible is personally loving me.


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