It’s about to get all swervy up in here….With my last slow, loungey hours of 2014 before the booty-bouncin’ and bubbly elixirs swoop in and giddy me up, I’m closing out this last 360 turn around the sun by clearheadedly saying: […eh hem…and with the drumroll]
Thank you, fraands and fuzzy-loves, my playpals and champions, my cohorts and confidants, and my partners-in-crime against mediocrity. Thank you, my Family – the one I was born to and the one I scooped and gathered along the way like found jellybeans at *Easter {*er, Spring Equinox}. Thank you for spending a year of your life with me in it, for contributing to my expansion, for giving my life its ever-shifting, gyrating shape. You helped growed me up and colored me in with your distinct and vivid hues of love. My chalice runneth over with the wisdom, development, celebrations, surprises, triumphs, and tasty memories the year has yielded me – every bit of all of it owed to the people I got to fold into my year and my heart. Now side by side, hearts and hands held fast together, we cross into an unmarked chapter, and plunging onwards, I hope you this:
That you cause yourself to leave behind the rocks that do not serve you but only weigh you down. I hope you trust yourself enough to distinguish what those are – right now in this ever-ready-for-you moment, and that you lay them down at the threshold of the heavy door you now close, and plow ahead unburdened by all that’s expired. I hope this year you uncover untapped spaces of your imagination with which to paint your days dripping in dreams and delight, and with a feverish, Jackson Pollack-esque gusto. I hope you get devoted to the cravings of your heart and make a love story of your own Self-discovery. I hope it’s a lusty one, your epic Great Romance, with little blue birds circling about your head and singing, and a hero swooping in on a big white horse and there’s riding off into sunsets and all of that yummy, swoony stuff. And I wish you the insight to see, once and for all, that this hero…is You. No more waiting in towers, lovely. I knight you now into the Kingdom of your own Sacred Hero’s Heart.
I re-invoke in you the native tug to keep discovering new ways to enchant thyself, and to do damage to the synthetic impediments that ever led you even once to suppress that talent. And as with every forest enchanted, pokes the head of a dragon every now and again. Sometimes a 3-headed one, with fangs and fire and an appetite that’s seemingly satiated by only your quaking vulnerabilities. I bid you the courage to stare these hot heads square in the face, and then braver even – to just…stop…battling…them…stop exhausting you, sweetness…And love them instead; Triumphing here is valor of the highest order.
I command, yes command, you feed yourself with joy-charged ionic air–that is to say with rushing waters and verdant plush forests and mountains that seem to laugh off your problems in that humbling, guru-esque way. And i wish you to cut your stagnancy with swirling-dervish-like dancing, and if that isn’t your style, then whatever mobile way you can get your body to say what your mind isn’t always willing to go public with–but personally i hope it’s the silly & wild let-loose style (for silly is the Sacred at play, i say).
And then let’s fill your forests with art and climbing things and with projects you love and communities that love you back. I hope trumpets fire off in your heart and waken you to the fanfare the entire Universe has been sounding off in your honor all along – you sweet, messy blessing. Do you hear the divine’s ribboning hymns that sing your name without you having to do a thing but be your precious, tender self? I do. Don’t worry; it takes practice being with your perfection. In the meantime, I can lend you my listening.
For the ruin that marks every tale of a dancer of edges, I wish you to study the fine art of alchemizing wreckage into fuel for your transformative fire, disaster into desire, should you choose to surrender and give way to the kind of pain that always does become the very salve that heals itself. This kind of hope’s gonna hurt, my beloved brave ones. But I promise promise promise, the skin you shed unearths gods within, and you will be stunned laying eyes upon who you truly, wholly are beyond what you never imagined you could endure. If you are gutsy enough to be ripped wide open and offer up your guts as an offering to the Cosmic feast. Inside the once unchosen places, are folded the Elysian fields of forgiveness, comes compassion, comes a kind of radiance that makes you gasp and wince at its radical beauty. Be prepared to fall in love. Or never mind that; unprepared falling in love is yummier yet.
Oh yes, and that. I hope you lots of unprepared falling-in-love-ness. I see toe-curling in your future, sweets.
I hope this year you write your story in a way that is honest, which is to say infused with the aromatic Truth of who you are, rippled with vibrational sacral giggles, you laughing with You. And I hope that you come to see that who you really are is however you choose to write yourself – and you are your own Magellan in this way, so abracadabra I say! I decree this is the year you paint yourself epically, write yourself divinely, ever-expansively, boldly, heroically. You are a masterpiece already. But you’ll need to write out, sing out, dance out, ceramic-wheel out your gorgeous story so that you all of your Cells and all of your Selves can know this too. And if you practice unlearning taking yourself too seriously, you will come to find out that all along, you were delightfully, epically, silly-ily perfect, forever and always. And then you’ll just have to find a new hobby other than all that fixing-upping of you. Take up disc golf or something, you whacky humanoid imperfect perfection. For me, that is who you are, and what I want for you, for us, is to be as we are and to love and write and create from our honest, tender places. To come out of dark towers and build glittering palaces of our Truths.
You are a fairytale, mah lerves. I am blessed to pair up our paths. Now lock arms, rev up them wings….Let’s go…
Joybrationally,
Lyssie Lovebeans
The Blyss Catalyst 