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.