I don’t want to be any of these things,

the shards of someone else’s dreams. 

The rings on these fingers,

the bottles on the shelf, 

whether they used to be mine or they never were,

now they all look like chains.

Clothes that never quite fit

covering skin I no longer recognize.

All masking fear.

But fear can’t hide from love with patience.

And I’ve got time.

Have you heard of “mirror work?” You look at yourself in the mirror. I spent some time doing this yesterday, and it’s a doozy. I hate that word. Then why would I use it? It communicates the ridiculous challenge of practicing something that seems so self-indulgent, but is actually profound. Looking into your own eyes forces you to confront the humanity of the being in front of you. Yes, it will surface all your ego shit. But that’s just layers of identity built up around you to protect the precious life you’re carrying in your body. Communing with it forces you to find the path to love for that self. We often find less barriers to love for others - assuming they lack some fundamental flaw we think we have to hide, or that they are somehow more worthy. But that’s all just a story someone told us once that we’ve kept around. To keep us safe from rejection. Looking into your own eyes, you hold the keys to opening deeper parts of yourself and showing them they need not fear rejection. I am here. And I love you.