{for the me who hoped that more was coming, for the me who knew that there was magic to be had just over the horizon, for the me who was waiting for a life that was everythingeverythingeverything, but couldn't figure out in which direction to look for it because she didn't know what she was looking except to know that it had to be the right thing and not the wrong thing because the wrong thing would be bad or disappointing and prove that she was somehow bad or disappointing so she tried to do it all right and perfect but still found herself lacking, wanting, wishing for a dream that once upon a time seemed promised but now stayed just beyond}
Nothing will change.
Until.
You are willing.
To form the seed in your own hands.
By grabbing at the amorphous possible.
And saying this is mine and me and all that I want.
Nothing will change.
Until.
You willing to let the ache of wanting rip through you.
Creating space for something.
New.
Yours.
Nothing will change.
Until.
You are willing.
To give it a name.
And claim the vision as more than just beyond.
Nothing will change.
Until.
You are willing.
To make it solid.
For yourself.
But once you are.
Willing.
You will still want and lack and wish.
But you will revel in the density of life.
You will make the fire burn.
In darkness and density…
With love and fire~
Jo Anna
Oh. My. Goodness.
I. Just. Can't.