Today, on this gloriously sunny first day of spring, I’m compelled to write about the singular “I”. The standalone powerhouse of a unit that we are, individually, the one we take for granted every day. Regardless of what roles we play in others’ lives, the easiest version of ourselves to forget is the ever so precious real me. Our world is pre-occupied with defining, and we all fall prey to it. Fitness level. Job title. Relationship status. Parenting style. Size. There is a benchmark for everything.
I’m convinced that the more we measure, the less we become.
We aren’t meant to lose ourselves. We aren’t meant to park the sacred gift of being who we truly are when there are no witnesses. We aren’t meant to put us on hold or give all of us away, not even to the people we love. If our love ones demand that then there’s something wrong. If we over-give then there is something wrong.
Our love for others is fullest, grandest, and blessedly nourishing when we are whole.
We shine, shine, shine when we are strumming, to the tune of our own hearts and to the refrains our own songs. So, let's make room for this, because if we are to lose ourselves in anything, let it be to the uniqueness of our very own rhythm!