No one could have told me, prepared me, or guided me through this but me. I say this because I chose to draw a line in the sands of time. I chose to run each time and follow myself where I was going, trying to get ahead of myself, and I would not take my foot off the pedal until it was necessary — and then I would retreat and rest, only to get back up again.
Time flew. I think I stopped time many times. My body does not look like 56, but that may just be good genes. The Janus of this flip makes my heart sing. To break up with my fear, guilt, shame, and regret — all wrapped around my unmet expectations like a blanket — to honor them, and then to let them go with love so I could grow up after growing in, opened my heart, and healed my flesh in a way that allowed me to breathe free.
I gave up many things on this journey to make room to find and listen to the deeper wisdom calling from within. And it worked. I was able to free the pain that I had unintentionally woven into my core.
I will honestly lay bare what I once kept to myself and share that side of the story. I did try to get “here” a few times — too early.
My smile was fawning, as I can now feel it — the sweet pink and red cherry blossoms of winter, laughing in time with the gentle cadence of birdsong, flowering on the wings of “not yet,” the slow feeding of a lifeline held together in the mystery of the seasons of becoming.
I know this because I said it in my first book, in Chapter 3, Beauty, in Internal Narcissus, which is now called Internal Journeys: A Spiritual Transformation. I can feel it even now:
“Naturally, we are bodies and souls in motion, and we should pay careful attention to the backdrop of our minds — always thinking about and pondering life’s occurrences as we dance within and through this mortal coil. Learning as we are able to, and not always as we may like, by trying to fast-forward to where we think we want to be.”
If Internal Narcissus had to metaphorically drown in his own reflection to be born again new, Internal Narcissa had to find her light and step back through the looking glass of time to be well and whole in the here and now.
It is the deep push from the bottom — the place of self-reflection. I can feel my toes press down, gathering strength to breach what feels like a lifetime, even generations, of seeking. I am gliding upward, carried by the water of time, like a capsule breathing me into the arms of forever and now.
I cannot be amiss about what time it is or worry about how many years I am. I am immortal — a spiritual being having a human experience by the grace of God. The veils have moved. I did not stop, though I could have. I have tried. I have pondered. I have worked through the options many times, considering what it would mean to stop. But that is not what it is time for.
I cannot fast-forward to where I think I want to be, no matter how good it feels, and no matter how well I can build the circle.
And as I land now on my feet — face forward, arms at my side, my belly full with unrestricted breath — I bend down to the earth, searching for skipping stones, continuing to build the circle of time within this tree of self and its patterns of illusion.
Choices were made. Intentions were set. Paths were asked for. And the gifts will be used for His will, not mine.
Internal Narcissa believes that with each belly breath in, we can hold the circumference of our resonance, and it is through gratitude and faith that we begin to break free, every day, from old patterns of self, solidifying the dance we *wrought in the journey of becoming.
In Love & Light,
Kellie J. Wright
*Wrought = To shape or bring into existence through effort, intention, or experience.