The real you is waiting in here.
Not out there.
You can't patch your soul's truth together
with workshops, a wardrobe, identity choices.
You'll likely spend half your life trying to do just that;
composing, polishing, packaging, facing outward,
even though its all inward.
Eventually you'll stop looking out there.
You'll stop in your tracks,
or, in a slow grinding halt.
In the middle of the noise and the obligations it will dawn on you,
maybe right now;
That the real you emerges.
Because its already there.
Beneath beliefs, and untruths, and fatigue, and wonderful experiments,
the real you emerges,
when you are courageous enough to be still.
when you act on your inclinations,
when you put your preferences on the altar of your life
and you say,
This.
This is what compels me.
The real you emerges,
from lifetimes of living,
from the accumulation of your prayers,
from your groin, from your gaze,
The real you emerges.
Not from anyones teachings,
but from what resonates in your cells.
Resonance, resonance, resonance.
The real you emerges.
When you dance,
When you let down your guard,
when you've had enough!
in between breaths, and waves, and let-downs, and bliss, and your fantasies,
and your steady longing.
Incant it.
Seduce it.
Set the stage
clear your calendar.
And the real you will surprise you like God tends to do.
The real you will surprise you with options for euphoria,
and blazing vitality,
and it will carry you like you long to be carried,
If, you let it emerge.
by Danielle LaPorte
