I am blessed. Every once in awhile I lose sight of that. I don’t remember first that I am blessed. I am moving. I can see the sky and the trees. I am warmed by the sun and there are no obstacles before me other than me.
Failure is first some days. Every once in a while I believe that. I don’t remember that I am blessed. I forget that I am the success of my parents. I have given my children all of who I am and that is enough.
Doubt knocks me down. Fear pins me to the ground where I give up and give in to the veneer of this existence and to the fallacy of what matters. As if I were expected, I am welcomed into a lone space in a cavern full of people who have also forgotten and whom I have disowned. I am only thinking of myself. Only thinking of what I lack and how I must deserve to be in this place because my descension was so quick and because I fit so easily. Regrets shower down and I almost drown without fighting. The gravity of quicksand tightens around my stilled arms and I begin to believe the darkness.
And then I remember that I am blessed. I hear the mantra, and I don’t remember why I lost sight of it. I am blessed. I breathe and open my eyes. There is light. I have health and understanding. I have loved ones. I have choices. I have the wherewithal. I am. I can. I am. I am. I. Am.