Wounds Are Sacred, Tears Are Holy: A Creed For Being Real
To speak the truth even when it doesn’t sound good.
To look in the mirror without flinching or turning away.
To feel the feelings—all of them—instead of shutting them out.
To trust my instincts no matter what.
To be authentic even when it feels like the loneliest road.
To allow myself to be loved even when I don’t feel loveable.
To lose faith and find it again.
To laugh or cry.
To pray or to curse the heavens.
To be this human work in progress with delicate eyelashes and scars,
Ashes and stardust, delight and hopelessness.
To honor it all as sacred, not just the shiny parts.
To let it all pass through like breath moves through a flute.
To lean in and move close instead of shutting parts of myself out.
To dive into the mess instead of omitting the grit for convenience.
To dare to rock the boat for the sake of integrity.
To honor contradiction and hold council with paradox.
To pay homage to all the voices within.
To remove the pretty mask in favor of being real, even when that real is scary.
To be myself even when the stakes feel high and the odds are low.
To be seen. To be heard. To be me.
So that I can love and be loved in the real.
So that I can live and die in the truth.
So that I can sleep soundly at night and do justice to this life I was given.
May I embrace it fully and even celebrate it.
May I decorate my face not with concealer but with glitter to remind me of the divine spark behind these temporary features.
May my heart-light burn bright.
May I continually source from the inner wellspring of divinity.
May I see beauty, when I look past, through, and into everything.
May I be unapologetically human.
May I speak the truth even when it’s unpopular.
May the stumbles be part of the dance.
My wounds? Sacred. These tears? Holy.
May I honor myself as I am and not as I wish I was.
May I stop trying to fix myself knowing that perfection is not a requirement of true love.
May I stop raising the toll for my own loving self-acceptance and see that I meet all the requirements now.
May I stand tall with the dignity that is given to all of creation.
May I no longer be ashamed of how I was made.
Let us lift this ban on our humanity.
:: CREATE ::
Write, paint, draw, or invent a play in honor of your real, messy, human self. Write a love letter to your scars or an essay about how your ‘weaknesses’ are really your greatest strengths. Choreograph a dance about how the worst thing that ever happened to you made you who you are today. Throw a ‘coming out’ celebration for that part of yourself you’ve been hiding away. Have a tea party with your cat in honor of feeling like total shit today. It’s all okay. Find a way to celebrate your messy, real, gorgeous human self. There is nothing wrong with you. This is how we’re made.
Copyright © 2015 Marie-Ève Bonneau