I’m not ashamed to be vulnerable and sincere. I’m not ashamed to love deeply with ocean force. I’m not ashamed to touch with electricity and conduct love and kindness palm to palm, skin to skin. I’m not ashamed of the creativity that moves through me.
I’m not ashamed of my willingness to step up and try despite great uncertainties. I’m not ashamed of my great passions for salmon, salamanders, and mountain flowers.
I hold deep love and respect for the women who fomented me in blood and wanting. I hold love for the woman and family in me. I hold my own intelligence and depth, and my ability to explicate the inexplicable, and my willingness to lights words and images through the dark places of being.
I hold with great honor my willingness to explore and embrace the frightening and unknown.
I love my love for my child, and the body that brought him to being, and the shared will and resiliency that carried us through terrible odds.
I love my pulse, my heart, its chambers and striations as it channels immense volumes of blood through my muscles and guts.
I love that I am still alive and opening, even when it feels like breaking or losing or dying or failing. I’m not ashamed that I’m still here and hoping and holding for love, despite everything.