It’s funny, this struggle of the mind. How it strives, always, to take us over, chattering through the silence and forever searching for the spotlight, when there is a river inside that  waits to flow through the unencumbered space devoid of thoughts. Here the water is warm and healing, it travels upon the air of our breath, reaching the deepest cells inside of our being until it finds home. Peace is a mere pause, yet rarely do we allow its presence.

Instead we follow the bumpy road of thoughts, tripping along the way. We diverge, often, down paths that are not ours to explore. The prattle of others scatters our focus, and like circus beasts, unable to break free, we cannot realize the inherent freedom to go our own way. That we must, in fact, break free to find home, which is self.

We are not here to follow orders. Think of the child before she succumbs to reigns. Think of the two year old dancing in all her glory, waving her limbs with abandon. Her emotions spark action. She is anything and everything at once. She is free in the finding of self. You were her, you still are.

Now think of the child, perhaps she is now 9, sitting in a queue of chairs. She is silent, waiting for her chance to speak. If she speaks out of line, she will be punished. This child knows rules that are not her own. When her eyes stray from the lesson she must learn – a template she has not written – they search through the window where life grows free. Her ears perk to the song of the bird. They can’t help it. It sings the lyrics of truth. Her soul knows the verses.

You are that girl. Or boy. That child waits inside, patiently, for you to come home to self. “Who are you?” she asks. For she knows the answers. She has never forgotten.

“Return to me,” she calls. Her voice is quiet, but strong. There is conviction in her words. There is power. Her call is steady, an echo, repeating until you pause to listen.

And, oh, the moment that you do, the doorway to pure joy opens, as wide as you allow it to. It is not a door that locks shut. It is not a door that opens only once. This door has no limitations, beyond what you give it. For it is the entrance to your soul. When you enter, you find reunion.  “Are you ready,” she is asking. “Are you ready to come home to me.”

“Together we will birth glorious things.”

“Together we are magic.”

The true, aligned self, you see, knows no bounds. The river of truth flows in a continuous heartbeat, aligning to and seeking only joy. Only love. It wants only for you to come home to the gifts of your free soul.

“Who are you?”

Pause. And remember. Return.