A wise man named Bukowski once said, failure brings freedom. It brings spaciousness to those, who have a hard time regulating their fire when exciting, upwards-moving times come. Persephone spends half of her time in the underworld and the other half exposed to the sun. We easily overlook our moon, our moon’s cycles. In these times of high productivity pressure, souls who are dealing with this theme anyway karmically, will be even more so exposed and influenced by the poo and boo sides of Capitalism.
Sleep my dear, you have the time to sleep. You have the right to sleep. You have the right to take your time. You are permitted to fail. You are permitted to breathe. You are invited to inhale the flower field’s beauty, regardless of … You are asked to soak in the air’s tiny gold particles, regardless of … You are allowed to be sighing. You are allowed to be human, to have flesh, to hurt, to have pain, to want to gain: more freedom more success, more ease, more love. You are allowed to be hungry and thirsty. You are allowed to want more. You are allowed to.
The Magnolia flower in our chest still does evolve. Still is worthy of the honey of life, of the touch of the busy bees, of the hints of the winds, of the glow of a warm gaze, of the balm of a smiling face.
You are enough.
Absolutely enough.
You are enough every moment,
As incomplete you may feel,
As incomplete your circumstances seem,
You are enough:
In your chest,
In your bones,
In your breath,
In your longing,
In your being.
You can rest.