I Gift You...

Tomorrow I turn 40!

Wow.

I can't believe the things I've accomplished. The risks I've taken. The anxieties I've tucked sweetly, but firmly into bed.

The person I've become - physically, mentally, spiritually.

A woman no longer afraid to barter 'proper' grooming and people pleasing for authentic soul expression.

I know now....

doing you with abandon,

and without apology

always leaves you richer.

I've stripped it all down the past few years and got completely intimate with myself. In that space of complete vulnerability I've gained some clarity on what I want out of this precious, delicate, sacred life.

I can't help thinking about that scene from Sleeping Beauty where the thee fairies peak over the crib to grant Princess Aurora their gifts.

Image: https://fatheredwardbarlow.wordpress.com/2019/01/06/three-gifts/

This year, I've decided to grant myself my own gifts. Here's what they are...

I gift you moments drenched in moonbeams and horse hoofs on sandy dunes. Bicycles on boardwalks, trails carved amidst sea grass, and doors streaked salty by ocean breath.

I gift you the courage to stop censoring yourself. To wear your eccentricities like diamonds dropping from your ears. The presence to stand in your own power regardless or rebuttal, ridicule, or rejection.

I gift you succulents, and high dessert, shamanic medicine, and storytelling.

I gift you permission to expose yourself, to show your hand first, to not view lack of chemistry as synonymous with lack of worth.

I gift you tribal scarves, steel dreams, a mix of texture and fabric. Rituals and rain roaring on a metal roof.

I gift you clearance to grow and change. To contradict yourself whenever you want, and for whatever reason.

I gift you pastel colored maps, the smell of old books, souvenir snow globes with magical miniature cities tucked safely inside.

I gift you the ability to trust your intuition and to act accordingly. To set boundaries and stick to them. To protect yourself and your energy when vampires come hungry.

I gift you fistfuls of wildflowers tied with twine, low lit rooms, and the flicker of patchouli scented candles.

I gift you the ability to sit in conflict without flinching, to stare into the shadows instead of away. To show up with smarts and swagger and soul. To wear your beautiful brazen heart on your sleeve, your skirt, your shirt – your jacket, your jeans, your jumpsuit.

I gift you romance that is made for movies. Big gesture, save the day, over the top kind of love. I gift you ivy, and shaker shingles, window boxes, and row houses. Skelton keys and sailboats.

I gift you salve for wounds that have not yet healed or which you’ve opened or allowed other to pick at.

I gift you stacks of letters, floral thrift store sheets, strings of pearls strung alongside cheap pom pom and paper chain garland.

I gift you a letting go, a breaking free, a cord-cutting. The means to finally trade guilt for getting on, victimhood for victory, comparison for unshakable confidence.

I gift you lemon trees, and limelight, space, and silence.

I gift you excitement and adventure and ease. Faith in times of contrast. The ability to flow in a way that honors the process. A deep knowing that it can’t be anything other than well.

I gift you conch shells, and coral, and the call of gulls.

I gift you freedom from debt - to companies, to people, to dues that aren’t yours to pay.

I gift you globe lights and gatherings. Guitar chords and girlfriends.

I gift you compassion, and creativity, and the curiosity to continue to peak behind the curtains.