Remembering

I would like us to remember.

That we often forget who we really are. That we too often wear ourselves out for others until our own spring runs dry. That we could step out at any time if we really wanted to. That we take many things far too seriously and sometimes lose our joy along the way like a pebble by the roadside. That we keep ourselves small – and that this is no coincidence, but an old game whose rules we have forgotten.

That we don't always have to. That we are more than we believe, and that there is more than our eyes can see. That something dwells within us – something radiant, sacred, like a light behind a curtain. That we are the creators of our own lives. That we don't have to repair the world outside as long as we are still on the run inside.

That we like to look away from what we ourselves help to cause. That our ego often takes the wheel – and yet wants to be seen and held. That the ego, too, needs love to soften, like ice in the spring sun.

That good and evil may not be as firmly written as we were taught. That love is simple – and whole. That we don't have to live in constant fear. That fear is not our enemy, but a gate behind which a wide land awaits.

That we may leave the past where it was. That we don't have to hold on to the future like water in a cupped hand. That the moment is all that matters.

That we learn to trust ourselves again. That advice is of little use as long as we don't walk the path ourselves. That courage doesn't have to be loud, only genuine. That detours are part of the way too and often offer the most beautiful views. That not everything is easy – but much may be simple.

That we don't have to twist and complicate everything. That we are lightness, like a feather in the wind. That we may lay down the grey veils like an old dress that has long become too tight.

That heaviness may be there – and still we don't have to carry everything. That joy, happiness and health are ours by right. Not as a reward, but as a birthright.

That we are magnificent. That we are abundance. That we walk on together – and at the same time may learn to be there for ourselves.

That we love again. That we laugh again. That we marvel again like children under a starry sky. That we are children of creation – and that we belong.

That we may be. Now. Here. In our full power.

And that we thank Pachamama – the earth that carries us. That nourishes us even when we forget her. That reminds us as soon as we walk barefoot over her moss. That calls us, in the silence, in colours, in songs. A sacred breath. An ancient embrace.

I believe we are remembering – little by little, like stars lighting up one after another at dusk.

And perhaps I am only writing all this because I have so often forgotten it myself.