Your aspirations
are not a race, an exam, or a series of skill testing questions
that permit you to proceed.
Your every breath
fuels your expansion into
more sacred desires.
Eternal permission.
Carry your dream like that dream wants to be carried.
Like a precious golden egg, an incredible torch, or the very cure itself.
Whisper to it. Strap it to your back with your water supplies and climb, running. Put it on the parade float and hear people applaud. Feed it really good food. Don’t tell a soul.
It’s a great privilege to dream
every imagining being attended to by stars.
And then to make the motion and mudras that
turn light into matter —
well, there is nothing brighter than
the place where heaven meets the earth.
Love,
Danielle
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