Show me how to love the ones that are like, really hard to love. The misogynists and boundary bullies, the fake leaders and land-rapers. Actually, for the sake of efficiency, just show me how to love the most greedy. That should cover it. (But while we’re at it, help me out with the Mean Girls, ‘cause like, whoa.)
Show me how to move my body through a time and space that is full of photoshopped illusions, exorbitant goals, and endocrine disruptors. Instead of wanting her to be any different or stronger, I suspect that you’ll tell me to shower my bodacious bod’ — every cell, and bronchial, and pore, and limb — with infinite gratitude for carrying me through gravity, sunrise after sunrise; for the ecstasy; for the endurance. On second thought, I can rescind this request for help. I think I’ve got it.
Show me how to surf my creativity like the most benevolent tsunami.
Help me do the hard work of tenderness.
This is in the realm of super magical powers, but I’d really love to know how to transmute all of the plastic that coats the Earth and chokes her oceans into some kind of restorative nutrient. Kinda of like how leaves are made into tinctures.
This is the most basic of basics but could you show me how to sleep — sleep like I deserve to rest, with no worries about keeping up.
Sweet Father-Mother, help me get free of the damn cloud. Remind me what life was like before my devices became vices. Or even better, how I can operate from the here and now with the gifts of modernity and the intention of ancient devotion.
There is a vantage point on one of the peaks of my life with a sign that says, “You’ve come so far.” (Thanks for putting it where I can see it.) Can you help me take a break every day to walk there and enjoy the view? I’ll meet you there, with every intention of staying a while.
Thank you for absolutely everything.