I want people to know with equal measure, the talents and gifts they possess and the Joy there is to be had. I remember the pivotal moment when, as a young girl, I understood without a doubt that the devil's goal was to bring us to misery. Solely. Completely. Entirely. To conspire to have it consume every waking thought and to drown us into deeper stasis and darker thoughts - to persuade us that we are not only powerless, but unworthy of our own wants, needs, and desires. I remember the juxtaposition of choice laid out, even as young as I was, that every single moment and every single day each of us have the power to accept deception as an artificial reality or to decry it as foul; that the light and the love of God will always be, no matter how many stones, people, moments, memories, or any other difficulty or tribulation would attempt to veil the sanctity of our birthright and our individual purpose on this earth. We all have the inherent right to the path of our lives. And not only is it a right, but it is sacred, unique, and blessed from before birth. And it is ours, alone.
Ever after, my stubborn little heart decided with absolute surety that I would refuse any dark invitation with an almost wilful disdain and the fierceness and fire of a hollywood maiden captured by a pirate. Smiles. But as fanciful as I was then (images of Olivia De Havilland and her flashing eyes tangoing with the sardonic humor of captain Errol Flynn), I absorbed this truth and never let it go. And I have clung to it through the years - sometimes with just the tips of my nails as tears streamed down my cheeks; while others, I have stood tall and resolute with a kind of fury radiating from my heart and my eyes in pointed rejection of all that Satan would try to have me think. His offerings of misery are insidious, deceitful, and should never have mastery over our spirits. To refuse him entirely. And to refuse those who might endeavor to claim unlawful dominion in our lives. Not in bitterness. Not in hatred. Not in regret. But in glorious and absolute love, energy, joy, light, and compassion.
Often I encounter people who seem to think that I either live a privileged life or am too unintelligent to grasp the seriousness of matters of reality and consequence. But I understand firsthand pain so difficult it takes one to the floor in the middle of the night into a fetal position of agony so wrenching and devastating, that the groan that yields itself presents as inhuman sound. Guttural and deep. Anguish so stark and raw that it finishes in the shrill screams of a wounded animal that has been attacked, ripped apart, and left to bleed out. Left in hopelessness. Left to die. Left to bleed, and bleed, and bleed. Left with no options. Left to a chest so tight from the palpable expansion of hysteria that it threatens to rupture and yet somehow doesn't. Powerlessness staking a ruthlessness that doesn't even allow for release of any kind. Left but to bleed even a little more. Spent. Lost. Listless. Emotionally empty. Done.
I understand loneliness so debilitating and sharp that it tore my heart into such a manner. The reality of my previous circumstance was too much that it kept me isolated in my home for two years at its end. The pain of what I had wanted in my life and the day my innocence in that desire finally met with the reality of all that the expanse of those years had really been, shattered every single part and piece of me. I had lived life with every breath, every design, every fiber in my soul in the pursuit of making it, working for it, wanting the white picket fence and the dream. The day that I knew it was all for naught - that none of it had ever been one iota of truth - was a crash of body and soul that I would not, could not, endure again. I had lost out on years; my girlhood and lightness of being had been veritably raped, my value mocked, and my sense of self had been desecrated to nearly nothing. My integrity had been used and regurgitated, sneered at and spit back out at me, and returned with a callousness and displacement of responsibility laid at my feet - time, and time again.
That was part of an old life. That was when determination remembered Satan's purpose and I not only renewed my fight for joy, but I stepped into a place that sought happiness for anyone and everyone else who might have momentarily allowed the untruth of Satan's desires and found themselves in pain, subsequently making choices that would support such a travesty. That was when the roar of womanhood rose up from inside of me. Vitally. Valiantly. The pure, untainted oxygen of purpose pulsing through my veins as life's liquid carried with it resurgence and renewal. Joy and happiness can indeed be had, no matter what. Truly. Unabashedly. To know this, to seek it, and to ask for its favor, stripped of walls, masks, or any kind of stipulation, is to receive a state of being that can never be revoked, stolen, or taken again.
Joy is. And it is not an ignorance, an exclusive privilege only available to a select few, or a lucky streak. Joy is what is found when we finally accept the truth of our worth against the transience of emotion, physicality, relationships, circumstance, influence, or environment. Joy is when we bravely seek to discover all that we might contribute to our own misery and to diligently live life in the manner which God intended - for who we are, because we are, and because we are worthy. Joy is to meet each bump and bruise without cries of bitterness or blame, but rather with the embrace of all that every single lesson might afford our characters, spirits, compassion, empathy, and knowledge. Joy is to throw caution to the wind, to allow each experience to sift through the silken gauze of unnecessary ego, to cry, absorb, reflect, and to learn. To find that all that was before us, all that we experience now, and all that may come on the morrow, only ever comes - to pass. Yes, it all comes to merely pass. And it can either drench us in illusory discouragement or fuel our beings into the mightiness of power and legacy, overwhelmed with the measure of its beautiful gifts.
Oh, yes. Joy is. And it is available every single day upon the right and the will of our own acceptance. The love of God is mighty and sure and it is the same yesterday, today, and forever. God can raise us from the agony of despair and bless us with the courage and the wisdom to truly make the choice to see now, while in it, to get up. To forge ahead. To seek meaning in everything. To discard those things that do not serve us and to bring into our lives all that would allow for who we are and what we are meant to be.
Life is not about us; it is about how we can give and what we bring to it. Satan doesn't care what we feel as long as we are so miserable and egocentric that we can't be a positive influence for others. He has no vested interest in any one of us individually when he murmurs untruth; he's only invested in stopping us from sharing God's Love. Don't allow it. Believe in a revolution of Joy. Wake up today with determination and desire. Believe in God's tenderness and plan for you; for He knew you before and knows you now. He gave His son for each of us. Do it today and let your soul sing. Only you have the power of choice to make it so.
Believe.
Ever after, my stubborn little heart decided with absolute surety that I would refuse any dark invitation with an almost wilful disdain and the fierceness and fire of a hollywood maiden captured by a pirate. Smiles. But as fanciful as I was then (images of Olivia De Havilland and her flashing eyes tangoing with the sardonic humor of captain Errol Flynn), I absorbed this truth and never let it go. And I have clung to it through the years - sometimes with just the tips of my nails as tears streamed down my cheeks; while others, I have stood tall and resolute with a kind of fury radiating from my heart and my eyes in pointed rejection of all that Satan would try to have me think. His offerings of misery are insidious, deceitful, and should never have mastery over our spirits. To refuse him entirely. And to refuse those who might endeavor to claim unlawful dominion in our lives. Not in bitterness. Not in hatred. Not in regret. But in glorious and absolute love, energy, joy, light, and compassion.
Often I encounter people who seem to think that I either live a privileged life or am too unintelligent to grasp the seriousness of matters of reality and consequence. But I understand firsthand pain so difficult it takes one to the floor in the middle of the night into a fetal position of agony so wrenching and devastating, that the groan that yields itself presents as inhuman sound. Guttural and deep. Anguish so stark and raw that it finishes in the shrill screams of a wounded animal that has been attacked, ripped apart, and left to bleed out. Left in hopelessness. Left to die. Left to bleed, and bleed, and bleed. Left with no options. Left to a chest so tight from the palpable expansion of hysteria that it threatens to rupture and yet somehow doesn't. Powerlessness staking a ruthlessness that doesn't even allow for release of any kind. Left but to bleed even a little more. Spent. Lost. Listless. Emotionally empty. Done.
I understand loneliness so debilitating and sharp that it tore my heart into such a manner. The reality of my previous circumstance was too much that it kept me isolated in my home for two years at its end. The pain of what I had wanted in my life and the day my innocence in that desire finally met with the reality of all that the expanse of those years had really been, shattered every single part and piece of me. I had lived life with every breath, every design, every fiber in my soul in the pursuit of making it, working for it, wanting the white picket fence and the dream. The day that I knew it was all for naught - that none of it had ever been one iota of truth - was a crash of body and soul that I would not, could not, endure again. I had lost out on years; my girlhood and lightness of being had been veritably raped, my value mocked, and my sense of self had been desecrated to nearly nothing. My integrity had been used and regurgitated, sneered at and spit back out at me, and returned with a callousness and displacement of responsibility laid at my feet - time, and time again.
That was part of an old life. That was when determination remembered Satan's purpose and I not only renewed my fight for joy, but I stepped into a place that sought happiness for anyone and everyone else who might have momentarily allowed the untruth of Satan's desires and found themselves in pain, subsequently making choices that would support such a travesty. That was when the roar of womanhood rose up from inside of me. Vitally. Valiantly. The pure, untainted oxygen of purpose pulsing through my veins as life's liquid carried with it resurgence and renewal. Joy and happiness can indeed be had, no matter what. Truly. Unabashedly. To know this, to seek it, and to ask for its favor, stripped of walls, masks, or any kind of stipulation, is to receive a state of being that can never be revoked, stolen, or taken again.
Joy is. And it is not an ignorance, an exclusive privilege only available to a select few, or a lucky streak. Joy is what is found when we finally accept the truth of our worth against the transience of emotion, physicality, relationships, circumstance, influence, or environment. Joy is when we bravely seek to discover all that we might contribute to our own misery and to diligently live life in the manner which God intended - for who we are, because we are, and because we are worthy. Joy is to meet each bump and bruise without cries of bitterness or blame, but rather with the embrace of all that every single lesson might afford our characters, spirits, compassion, empathy, and knowledge. Joy is to throw caution to the wind, to allow each experience to sift through the silken gauze of unnecessary ego, to cry, absorb, reflect, and to learn. To find that all that was before us, all that we experience now, and all that may come on the morrow, only ever comes - to pass. Yes, it all comes to merely pass. And it can either drench us in illusory discouragement or fuel our beings into the mightiness of power and legacy, overwhelmed with the measure of its beautiful gifts.
Oh, yes. Joy is. And it is available every single day upon the right and the will of our own acceptance. The love of God is mighty and sure and it is the same yesterday, today, and forever. God can raise us from the agony of despair and bless us with the courage and the wisdom to truly make the choice to see now, while in it, to get up. To forge ahead. To seek meaning in everything. To discard those things that do not serve us and to bring into our lives all that would allow for who we are and what we are meant to be.
Life is not about us; it is about how we can give and what we bring to it. Satan doesn't care what we feel as long as we are so miserable and egocentric that we can't be a positive influence for others. He has no vested interest in any one of us individually when he murmurs untruth; he's only invested in stopping us from sharing God's Love. Don't allow it. Believe in a revolution of Joy. Wake up today with determination and desire. Believe in God's tenderness and plan for you; for He knew you before and knows you now. He gave His son for each of us. Do it today and let your soul sing. Only you have the power of choice to make it so.
Believe.
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