Your True Names.

Where are your names, dear one? What are your true names?

Do you know them? Can you remember them? Are they spoken proudly on your lips, written across your forehead, held in your hands like swords and shields, hung around your neck like an amulet, a symbol of power and identity and self? Or are your names hidden? Are they secreted away beneath layers, under covers, swallowed down and held tightly in the dark, closer than your heartbeat, lest anyone see them, hear them, mock them, take them away?

What names have you taken for yourself? What names did you once bear but have given up, lain down, thrown away?

When we are young, we yearn to be told who we are, what we are, where and to whom we belong. We join ourselves to tribes and to others who help us work out the edges of ourselves; where we blend, where we end. We drink their words and eat the portions meted out for us hungrily. Tell me who I am. Tell me what you need me to be. I will give you everything, do anything, I’ll be anything you need. Help me know what and who I am? And for heavens sake, don’t leave me. Don’t ever, ever leave me.

We took the names they gave us, we became what they wanted us to be, because we were afraid. We were afraid of the wild.

But they lied about it, you know. We won’t die out there. It’s what we are. We are made of the wilderness.

You do not need to be afraid of the wild. Your name is written there. It’s spoken in the wind. It’s carved in the rocks and hills and mountainsides. It’s in the call of the wild things. You are of the wilderness. They cannot threaten you with anything, nothing can hold you, when you trust the place they threaten to cast you into more than you trust them.

We will cast out all fear with courage, my friend, and the school of courage is out here – in the wild.

Trust You. God Does.

Why don’t you listen to your own good heart?

Why don’t you wrap your arms around yourself and soothe your troubled soul?

Why don’t you give your power to yourself, and not to others?

Why don’t you acknowledge those feelings as visitors, as mirrors, as signs of life?

Why don’t you treasure your intuition? Why don’t you trust you?

God does.

She Has You.

The you that you once were – that small, good and vibrant child who once was – that’s the real you. All the things you were then; those things are who you really are. Still. Now.

You wonder what you’re made of; you’ve spent your whole life seeking and searching, holding up mirrors to yourself and picking up labels and sticking them to yourself. You’ve rejected the story of your inner child, because there was so much shame around that space, and that place. But you are not those shameful stories.

You are the you who wondered, questioned, asked why, thought those hundred thousand thoughts. You are the you who felt all the feelings. You are the one who knew just what you knew. You are the you who always was, and always will be.

When you wonder now, in your confusion and your memories, in the mess and the sorrow and the fear and at the rock bottom, what to do… go to her. Go to the one you have always been – the small one, the pure one. The one who questioned. The one who sang. The one who ran, who read, who wrote. The one who stood, hands on hips and said no, I won’t. The one who loved and held on tightly. The one who knew beyond knowing what was truly right, and what was absolutely wrong.

You had so little power then, and you suffered. But it is not too late. You can listen to her now. You can empower her now. You can take her on your lap, and hold her until the tears and fears are gone. She has you, now. She has you, and you have her, and that is a very, very great thing.

You are Sublime.

The truth is, we are sublime. We are filled with strength, beauty and knowledge. We are wiser than we have been led to believe. We are capable of incredible feats of grace, and of greatness. We can learn everything we need to know. We can command our own soul, and guide others into truth. We thrum with the breath and beat of life that has always been and will always be.

We can hear the very voice of God.

The Small, The Pure, The I Am.

Once, you were not ashamed.

Once, you knew instinctively you were good at the very core, and your heart was intrinsically pure. You were curious, you were adventurous and you were free. You were blissfully unaware the way you saw the world and everyone in it might be different from how others see it.

I Am – the most essential name for God or Source in many spiritual traditions – was your name for yourself. I Am happy. I Am hungry. I Am small, and I Am pure. I Am home. I Am Good as Gold. The nucleus at centre of an entire universe, an unending source of energy, life and beauty – this was who and what you were, and you embodied it completely.

When you were that little I Am, you were not an empty vessel waiting to be filled. You were the whole universe in a seed. You were like a pomegranate plucked from a tree. You were a complete sphere of perfection and goodness, with yet more seeds inside you. You were a life-giving ball of goodness. You smelt good, you felt good, you looked good, and you were good.

You held the capacity to nourish, both from within, and in giving of yourself to others, and to please and delight. You were joy, and joyful. Everything about you was right and worthy. If nobody had ever looked upon you, knew you or held you, if you were never named or had your feet and hands touch the earth, or given rites or blessed, or kissed by the sun or moon, you would have been no less good, no less pure, no less beautiful, worthy and perfect.

You were I Am.

You are, still.