Sometimes I forget that I’m creative, that I came here, in a sea of traveling light that can illuminate even my darkest ideas.
“What’s wrong with me?” is the mantra that has created elaborate worry.
Illnesses in my head, potential threats and warlocks, taking over the healthy parts of my body. Making them dead.
Dizzy and nauseous, I laid my body down on the bare carpet, forehead and belly firm on the ground, asking again this familiar question. “What’s wrong with me?” “What is wrong with me?”
A different question mark boomed in my ear, as if a fist unraveling. “Why am I always asking what’s wrong?” it said, offended. “What’s RIGHT with me?”
Suddenly, the line I heard in Reiki two weeks ago made sense. “You are right” that voice said, repeatedly.
You are right.
Right in your composition. Right in your findings. Right in your place on this Earth. Right in your well-being. In your being. There is no wrong in you. There is nothing wrong. There is nothing ever wrong.
The warlocks left my body and let me, once more, be the sea I came from. The light that travels. The light that remembers it is light.