As I lay there on my back on the sheepskin rug, tears rolling down my temples, their supportive hands on my heart, my belly, my forehead, arms and feet, listening to one of my sisters sing me a Sundance song, their eyes wet with feeling...
I remembered what I'm truly made of.
And what I'm not made of. And what you're not made of.
You're not made of the haunting of unfinished tasks, that last conflict with your partner, or fervent future planning. The unopened mail, that pile in the corner, that one last thing before bed? Nope, not those either.
And how long can your nose really handle being pressed so tightly to that grindstone? If you lift yourself up, even for a second, will something deep inside you screech that you haven't done enough?
Or is it telling you that who you are isn't enough?
I know this...
You're made of the same stuff as the sacred portal that opens up when you make love, reach for divine communion, or finally open your ears to listen to the whispering tug of your soul.
You're made of the big breath of crisp night air (there are stars). The rhythm of a drum-beat you can feel through your bones. The leap in your pelvis when you feel attracted.
You're made of the deep nourishment of foods made the old, slow way. The radiant openness of your heart when you're willing to let them see you and truly connect. You're made of the owl's hoot and the hawk's screech.
You're made of the sunshine. And the darkness and the rain and the fire and the snow and the fallen leaves. And even that mountain.
You're made of the home-y, connected feeling of simpler times, even though you live in complex ones.
Dear Human, you're made of love. We all are.
That's why wherever love is present, you remember who you are and what you're truly made of. And what you're not made of.
And you remember that what you're made of is already more than enough.
Don't you agree? If so, leave me a comment here about how YOU remember what you're made of.
And of course, please share this on Facebook if you needed the reminder (because that means one of your friends does too). There's a share button below to make it easy.
With all the love we're made of,
PS: This post begins with a scene from my own women's group, the true inspiration behind the groups I lead. If you're curious, click here: