My Petition to the Universe Part IV: I am

I was asked to construct a six-word memoir, so I did: Everything I will be, I am. It came to me quite quickly and I suppose the thought was sitting right on the proverbial tip of my tongue, waiting anxiously for the chance to be expressed. There was no hesitation nor reconsideration. That, quite simply, was it.

Dear Divine Source,

When I consider the words I say them over and over in my mind letting them drip in elusive meaning and slippery construct. I am? As if there is a question to be asked of me or my being. A hint of surprise as though I was unaware of my presence and uncertain of my matter. I am? As if I were the only one who were not. Or the anomaly in humanity so detached from other beings I cannot make sense of myself. Lacking in definition for all the ubuntu still leaves me paralyzed in wonder. I am…the things that cultivate my identity. My ego self. Mother, wife, lover, and all the weight of each world I carry. But what of “I am.”

Dare I say I, presently reside within my Self. I feel the soft lining of my own walls and see the garden through my own windows. I have access to my sunshine and within I am is the world. I made a bed with loneliness, with guilt, with shame and in a sick lovers tryst they tried desperately to cloud my eyes leaving me blind to truth. But I am. I proclaim it and with my fist held high I close my eyes, faithful and in full knowledge that seeing bears no weight on my belief.

I dwell within a space of stasis and satisfaction. A place void of apology, secrecy, and judgment. What kept me? The thought that my physical reflection was not worthy of awareness? The notion that I would not live up to expectation? It was another me, then, you would have to ask her.

And thus in this petition I ask for nothing more. I have myself. Which is god. Which is love. Which is everything. I require nothing more.


My Petition to the Universe, Part III: The Price

So many things happened today that I don’t even know where to begin. Iyanla and Evelyn, the breeze, the tarot cards, Rosh Hashanah, they all have melded together thanks to the divine alchemist and have given me this moment. A moment where…I simply want to pray.


I feel so close to you right now, I am without description but I am that I am that you made me. I lay and ask myself does my life honor my creator and my divine plan? I inhale and as I wonder I also know that it does so long as I do not fear the power in my own voice. That is to say, you.

The cards said to me to let go of anything that left me unfulfilled. Let go of anything, in other words, that was no longer serving my divine plan. As I watched Ev weep, I asked myself what are my own choices costing me? You cannot say you know who you are, and truly mean it if you continue to dishonor yourself. I believe I have seen glimpses. I have an idea, but I am more than even I dare to imagine. But I cannot paint with both hands if one is clinched in a monkey trap. I am a vessel, but I’m blocked. By fear. Grasping for my old familiar anxiety reducers rather than remaining faithful that my provisions shall be acquired if only I make the request. Make the request and have open the capacity to receive it; the full cannot be filled.

I want to love myself. I want to love the part of myself who wants to be seen. The me that wants to stand out. The me that desperately seeks to feel the love of her father, but can’t seem to get close enough to it. I want to love the me that is lazy, and makes excuses. She has been rewarded but it has cost her so much and the weight of her choices are crushing the wings of her spirit. I want to love my wit, my laughter, my passion. I want to love the me that people fall in love with.

It is not me that is intoxicating; its divinity that fills my veins and seeps out of my pores. I want to love the me that validates the soul in another. My petition is simple and so complex, but I am ready to do my work. I will be diligent and steadfast. Help me to remember my promises.