We’ve been praying, we’ve been sowing. Now we’ve crying, heaven send the rain.
We’ve been praying, we’ve been sowing. Now we’ve crying, heaven send the rain. Send the rain

—William McDowell

A dry field produces not an abundance of crops, but a lack of crops. I have been guilty of wishing, praying and demanding, like an intolerant two-year-old, that I am given abundant life. See, it is not the wishing, the praying or even the demanding that creates the guilt trap. No, my fault is assuming and expecting abundance to flow freely to me without effort on my part.

A gardener knows she cannot expect an abundant harvest come Summer if she has not thoroughly tilled her soil. She knows she must properly sow her seeds in the good earth. She comprehends that watering is necessary. Similarly, she allows and encourages her garden to be watered.

Too often we vainly ask for the seemingly impossible. We bombard our Source of all that was, is and will be with empty wishes. These wishes are empty because we often desire not to have to face the rain required to water our seeds. We claim we will do anything and face everything necessary to live the life we desire. Yet  when the storm clouds appear, the thunder rolls and the rain begins to fall, we hide. We complain that the ground is too wet for us to thread. We argue that there is too much rain to see beyond.

Your life is your garden. You can manifest all that you desire. You require rain to bear good fruit. Embrace every drop from every storm and your life will harvest abundance.

—♥Egypt

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

—Robert Frost

I may never have the necessary quantity of words, nor the gravity of profound articulation or even the ability to allow my hand to dance so fervently over this glass paper to tell you how heavy my heart has been; and yet still, how light I have only just begun to feel—but I can gift to you my journey, my love thus far and henceforth in hopes that you will be able to translate and transcribe that which falls within the spaces between my words and that which tarnishes these pages forever and 80 years.

For more on my own journey back to confidence, self-esteem and self-worth head over to Geiko Skin ♥

You’re nobody till somebody loves you. You’re nobody till somebody cares.

—Frank Sinatra

♥

I will always encourage you to love yourself. I will not be the only person who tries to hearten you to love yourself despite all doubts.  Yet, if you cannot love yourself all I say and all others say will be in some sense vain. No amount of people can ever love you enough to make you feel like you are somebody worth loving or caring for. The journey to knowing your worth lies within you. The path you seek towards love is yours and only yours to tread. Until you can convince yourself that you are worth every ounce of love that ever manifested you will continue feeling insignificant and unnecessary.

You feel like a “nobody,” because you have convinced yourself that someone or something outside of yourself can make you somebody. You are squandering your good energy trying to prove to the world that you are somebody. What is there to prove? It took me a while to remember, but I have always been somebody. I have always been important, a part and parcel of this great divine tapestry. If it were not so, there would be no need for me to be here. You are here because you are important. You are here because you are necessary. We need something that only somebody, that somebody being you—can provide.

Your heartbeats inspire me,

—♥Egypt

How much time and energy and precious breaths are you going exhaust trying to maintain the separation of your array of colliding parts? 

♥

There is a temple to be rebuilt. You are the first and last architect. First, you must tear down all of your walls. You must expose the various cracks in your sinking foundation to the eye of the sun. Allow your leaks to be drained dry by the pull of the moon. Patch all that leaves you feeling crumbly with mortar conjured from the blood of your tears—only then can you begin to rebuild. Only then can light shine through and out of the transparency of your opaque prism.

♥ All is Abundance ♥

It has taken me a lifetime up until a point not long ago to realize that all of me is necessary. Nothing is ill-gifted or misplaced—simply mismanaged more often than not. My heart goes out to the beautiful soul whose heart desires nothing more than to sing but chooses to succumb to everything other than his or her own voice. This beautiful soul also loves writing, to paint and to maybe someday become a dancer and public speaker. Yet, today’s society will insist that you can only do one thing with all the many gifts bestowed upon you.

Well to that beautiful soul I say, off with the reigns which say to you—you can only be what sits well with the narrow minds and blinded eyes of those who seek to drown your light in their self-conjured woes and personal fears. I say, do you my dearest andestagōnwa—my dearest love. You, like they, were birthed from an ocean of abundance. So be it that you choose to utilize and manifest with all of your inheritance, and they seek not to follow in your footstep or simply tread their own.

Like begets like—this is a lesson I have relearned, a universal law that neither you nor I can alter. Take the latter into full consideration. Give from your storehouse of abundance—your inheritance, your gifts, your experiences, talents, and skills. You are bound by law to receive an abundance like nothing you have ever seen, but everything you have ever desired.

♥

Yours in Love Truly Always & Forever

P.S. Spring has sprung. Welcome to the beginning of the New Year! I am dancing to each beat of your measures. Know, I pray you nothing less than all of your cups running over with love and prosperity. ∞♫∞

Time is like a handful of sand, the tighter you grasp it, the faster it runs through your fingers.

— Henry David Thoreau

♥

We try to hold on to ourselves as is— but like sand —our days, our time and eventually who we could be fall from our hands. The latter is quite possibly the greatest tragedy of human existence.

You are meant to be weathered like the sands upon a beach, those of a smoldering dessert or even that which treks along a river bed. Each storm that shifts you, and each water that smooths you produces an even better, more refined version of you. If you observe sand being blown about in a hurricane or sand storm you will notice, no two grains are blown the same. Each granule must weather its own rising and falling. Be like sand.

Each grain is a beach within itself. Each grain of sand holds a reflection of a well-weathered beach. Within its crystallization is a story — one which only that particular grain of sand can tell. Yes, it shares a similar tale with all of the other grains of sand along the beach, but its journey is always its own.

Be like sand.

Go count each grain of the sands of time and know that is how much I love you.

—♥ Egypt