The jig is up.

So.

Who here has a semi-severe case of “fuck it” today?
Who is feeling pushed so far past the edge of comfortable boundaries, that all hopes of “normal”, or “niceties” have been utterly defenestrated?

Who is all out of the sugar usually used for coating their raw, unbridled truth?
Who is feeling like there might be a swarm of extremely excited hornets inside their cranium?
Who is having difficulty sleeping, or feeling like their third eye is maybe, slightly, kinda on fire?

These are turbulent times, and the nights of winter solstice season are particularly dark.
In this heavy upheaval, and profound darkness, faith can start to look shorta, well... fruitless.

We're being brought down to the bedrock. 
This the last gasp of a long exhalation. 
This is a step up or step off moment.

Remember that enormous shift storm shindig in the heavens which we were all invited to?
There was no RSVP, nor dress code required, and transportation was provided... so attendance was pretty much a given.
The party's still raging. 
The band is now building to a crescendo. 
Fireworks flying every which way.

You might have noticed you've been dancing so fast that your feet are aching and you're beginning to get awfully dizzy.
You might have been too busy dodging stray bottle rockets.
You might be inclined to go hide out in a shadowed corner with a stash of chocolate.

Either way.
Any way, here we are.
In this together.

Things are, to say the least, fairly high energy.

To whom can we turn at moments like this?
Where can we go for clarity in the midst of such exhausting, tumultuous transformation?
Inward, that's where.

You already have all antidotes and answers within. 
You are the doctor, the diagnosis, and the medicine.

Center yourselves, Beloveds. 
Take three, deep, cleansing breaths. 

Allow your attention to flow into your weary heart.
To fill every nook and cranny with awareness.

Do not turn away. 
Feel all of it.
Fully.

You are not alone. 
You are not lost.
You are coming home.

You know this, so stop pretending that you don't.

No more playing small.

The giant within you has slept for long enough.
The jig is up.
The chips are down.

Might as well own that shit, right?
Right.

I love you.
Every bit of you.
As you are. 
Deeply. 
Truly. 
Always, and in all ways.

© EJB 2016

❤