Sankalpa

I've been lost for the last 24 hours or so. There are caverns in my mind... long, winding hallways filled with darkness and secret dripping sounds. Echoes and things that slither. The first time I held a human brain in my hands, I remember thinking that the labyrinthian folds and corners looked rather familiar... and I'm in there now, somewhere left of the lingual gyrus in a place that is deeply patterned.

Anxiety city.

I can't go into the details – they're irrelevant anyway – but the basic premise is that I'm looking for some external validation. I'd like to buy an ego-boost for $500, please.

I mean, welcome to America, right? I can hear you thinking that this is simply how we roll here – we buy the validation, the ladder out of the lost places in our mind. Or we ride the chute of addiction out. Have you seen my postings on social media? Mine, like yours, are cries for attention – validation – support of me as good enough. Right enough. Well enough.

Someone please tell me I'm pretty.

It's exhausting. Because I know I'm smart, and funny, and I do actually think I'm pretty (on a good day, with the right lighting...) It's hard to create my own light and shine it out, but that is the work. Especially on days when I am looking for someone else to light me up, to reflect my light back at me, these are the days when I need to put my hand on my chest and BELT, “I AM BEAUTIFUL – I AM BOUNTIFUL – I AM BLISS GAWDDAMMNIT.”

The yogis say that your thoughts become your words, and your words actions, and if that is the case then I believe we are royally fucked, my friends, because my thoughts are not yielding fields of blueberries and decent foster parents for all. My thoughts have a way of scampering into the dark places, of luring me down the hole, of clouding over the sun of my self-confidence.

After yoga, and coffee, and confession, and more yoga, I drove home ready to do the home-improvement work that I'm sure Jung would find particularly meaningful - rebirthing my guest room in Santa Fe colors. It's a work in progress, like my social life. And now I've retreated to the joy room – my life-raft of safety and security, containing only the things that spark joy and literally nothing else.

So here I am – on time out. Surrounded by things that spark joy, seeking the internal light switch. Recharging the crystal I wear over my heart, which took the place of the phoenix whose job was to remind me to lead with the heart, always.

I AM THE LIGHT OF MY SOUL.