Letter To My Future Self

Even if I say it myself, in the realms of mind, heart and spirit is a fascinating place for me these days.

It might be that the introspection that’s writing’s by-product has unlocked a new avenue of how thoughts now seem to pass through cognisance. Or it might be movement through time. Who knows?

The ability to look at myself as I watch what passes as memories, thoughts, observations and images feels like a new skill. It’s a stratum that shifts according to filters, time and mood too, it seems.

Maybe the only difference is the heightened awareness of myself in the picture. Goodness! I hope it’s just not another downward degree of selfishness.

So, I’m sharing with you aspirations and promises of what growth I hope sprouts and lifts me up to the limitlessness of who and what spirit is.

This Is a Love Letter to & for the Self, after all… Who Else is Out There?

It’s not in places that the safety I sought for resides. It’s not in the people even. Or what I do.

It’s in the vastness I inhabit.

To recollect that no one and nothing is ever genuinely lost. The universe is it’s own archive.

May the dreams of childhood never take leave of my soul, for it’s true that adventure pulses with life in the innocence and blind faith of seeing beyond the threshold of the senses.

Echoes from the past fade away as naturally as the wind blows my footprints on the sands. To wipe clean the slate without the gift of forgetfulness, only that of letting go.

May I learn to let the raging fire inside to chisel and tune into the remembrance of what I came here for. To tap into the power of listening with my whole self and let the tongue stay.

The work has begun of unlearning all the patterns I’ve learnt to coil into like a centipede that guards against touch. Or the tortoise that retreats back into the hardness.

I pray for the fire’s courage that burns it all. The staying power to face all countless sides of myself melt away as the crooked, cracked mirror would reveal.

The grace to keep the dance of a love or heartbreak song- may I never stray far from it. May I always hear the music of the dance.

To remember to be thankful for the sweet song of the morn’s bird with every passing day.

May I learn to feel the intense fulfillment of the mundane chores that each day asks us to repeat. To experience the miracle of the ordinary. The magic that is the ordinary.

May I ever walk God’s earth with a smile that reaches my eyes. To live knowing undoubtedly from the heart that I am— because you are.

Knowing that a little kindness goes a long way. But that everything goes back into the cyclical folds of time.

That not any story defines me, I am the play I put together with collections of glimpses and sneak peeks across the veils of memorial curtains.

May life never cease to sustain the lessons of love unencumbered by possessions. The ever evolving reason for being.

Most of all, to never neglect, to ever carry with an unfeigned wisdom that it has never been, will never be “my life.”

May the kindle of fire deep inside keep the flame aglow. Till it goes out again everywhere with me.

Till we meet again. And it shall be Sundays from now on.