I want permission…

  • To do it my way.
  • To do it wrong.
  • To say, “I don’t want this,” without giving any further justification.
  • To bask in the spotlight.
  • To frolic through the meadows of off-brand-ness.
  • To be angry.
  • To grieve–still.
  • To let go on my own time.
  • To ask the questions I really want to ask.
  • To believe in magic with childlike wonder.
  • To totally screw up–and just keep on keepin’ on.
  • To enjoy raw cookie dough and raw green juices with equal amounts of enthusiasm.
  • To speak the unpopular truth.
  • To lay down my armor.
  • To shed the fear that protects but stifles me.
  • To still be afraid.
  • To amplify the soul stuff and the brain stuff.
  • To not know.
  • To yearn.
  • To be more than–or other than–my expectations.
  • To celebrate what’s dying to be born, and what’s dying to be born.
  • To drop the pretense.
  • To do it because I want to so badly I can taste it–and for no other reason than that.
  • To greet where I’m at in this moment with love, even when I’m grieving, even when I’m angry, even when I’m afraid. Especially then.
  • To branch out.
  • To paint my contradictions onto a giant imaginary canvas, & hang it on my wall as one of the universe’s grand masterpieces.
  • To act on passion.
  • To craft my manifesto moment by moment, breath by breath, even if I can’t put it into words. Yet.

Just for the hell of it…
I’m giving myself permission.

The best is yet to come.

What do you want permission to do? What needs to happen for you to give yourself that permission?

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