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It lives within me, a part of my essence. The more I feed it the more I feel it. The more I feel it the more restless it makes me. A restlessness I have indulged throughout my life. I have shape shifted as a result of it throughout the seasons and transitions of my life. I have come to learn that ignoring it is at my peril, for fearing it as I have found myself doing is rather deadly. You have lived your life. But death is morbidity. Do I want to slowly die everyday or do I want to let the fear die.
Do I want to feed my essence, the part that lives within me, that is me. The part that is me underneath the labels. The woman who lives underneath the daughter, sister, mother, wife, friend, neighbour, worker, etc. The me, the only one who knows all my secrets and experiences within this life. Let me share a little secret with you. I love her.
I love feeding her essence and feeling her breathe those deep fulfilled breaths. I love feeling like her. Like she is home within me. How can she be all knowing when it comes to life and everyone else? She can only know herself. She dreams her own dreams. Perhaps that is what wisdom is. To simply know yourself, to respond to life in a way that honours yourself and respects others.
To be responsible for your life and your choices but not at the expense of your own essence. To meet yourself right where you are in the moment and phase of life you are in. To belong there. My younger self was good a meeting myself wherever I was. I could go where I needed to go, things could always be deferred. There is always more time, more opportunities. I was pliable and mortality, I was lucky, it happened somewhere else — in another reality. Of course it is privileged to live without fear, a privilege my younger self took for granted.