It All Began When You Exited The Uterus
We signed up for this dance
before we were born.
Dear world, I’m about to enter another adventure –
called life, and I am ready. I understand you’ll be
welcoming me with open arms, and I’ll meet this
woman who nurtured me under her heart for nine
blessed months. I’m thrilled, excited, and scared –
emotions I’ll carry as long as I live. But for now, I’m
nothing but a blank page. I’m nothing but a
pulsating entity free of pain, suffering, and drama.
All of which I’ll learn again and again. And above all
else, I shall never forget I signed up for it all.
Once upon a time, certain stars aligned so two
human souls could step on each other’s dusty
pathways for a second, a decade, or perhaps an
entire lifetime. They liked each other, and so did
their grand-souls and your great-grand-souls. All
of those people whose names you had to put on
your family tree in the sixth grade had to fancy
each other, seduce each other, and ultimately
have unprotected sex. It all had to happen in this
sequence in order for you to even have the good
fortune to visit this world.
At the moment you were knitted into your
mother’s womb, you were given a one-of-a-kind,
unique genetic code assigned to only you. In this
magical and mysterious moment of faith,
something else very profound was given to you.
Something warm and still, but intangible.
Something that you will carry for as long as you
live. You may go on and spend your life blindly
denying its existence, or perhaps like me, you’ll
turn to it one day when logic and carefully crafted
strategies no longer work. It is a timeless part of
you carried from one lifetime into the next.
It is exactly the same spiritual part of you that
has chosen to descend on this planet, in this time
zone, to this particular mother.
Thanks to this woman’s uterus, you had months
to spare preparing for your grand entrance. She
had months to prepare for a new-found role as
your caregiver. Both of you impatiently waiting...
And then the magic began. You went on having
this experience on Planet Earth called life. I’d like
to believe that for most of us out here, the
beginnings were tender, sweet, and lovely. I’d like
to believe that we were cuddled, warm and safe.
We got all the attention, love, and care our
parents could have given us at that time and
place until we matured in our serious human
ways and started extensively filtering the world
around us. We quickly soaked up everything
there was to learn about being human through
parents that gave us the opportunity to live. The
good and the bad. The beautiful and the ugly. The
pleasure and pain.
See, the thing is, what we learned in good places
like home, schools, and playgrounds while
building sandcastles, seeded confusing stories
about who we are, what we are capable of, and
who we will never be.
These heartfelt places set our emotional climates
for lives we haven’t even tried living, and shaped
us in so many ways that it would take me the
entire book just to name a few. But I am not
going to list those here as there are many books
written on this topic already.
The only concept I want you to grasp is that this
very same spiritual part of us has handpicked our
particular birth parents because we didn’t just
come to this world to drink lattes all day and buy
shoes we don’t even need. Every single one of us
came here on a spiritual adventure – to learn, to
teach, and to break the patterns that as grown
ups, we madly get attached to. You know those
things you keep doing over and over again, when
deep down, you know they are bad for you?
All because you were put on this planet to deal
with these messy, human addictions and claim
your victory once you figure this out, one by one.
Because let’s be honest here – we’re all a bit
troubled and have far more obsessions than we
would like to admit.
Anyhow, if you need a visual – see yourself going
into the wildest forest, finding that snake and
cutting its tail off. That’s what you literally came
here to do. But until you find time to go to the
origins of your spiritual adventure and find its
roots, you’ll be obsessed forever. And that would
be a tragedy, because we’re only here for a
minute, and you want to be free and fierce while
you’re here. I know this because that’s what I
want too. We all want this.
So, this is how it goes: step one – absorb all the
pearls of wisdom you learned from the birth
parents you have chosen; step two – unlearn
everything you have learned. Not very logical, I
know, but there is nothing logical about being
human anyhow.
Inspired by this illogical notion, I dug deeper.
Let’s start with parents, and then we’ll move on
to patterns and stories we tell.
I came across a phrase that sounded something
like this: “We come through our parents, but we
are not our parents.”
This was revolutionary to me because it
contradicted everything I believed in. I thought
our parents were basically our gods, and we must
be forever grateful and eternally respectful
towards them. Because frankly speaking, if you
aren’t (at least) respectful, you weren’t raised
right. And love, we must love and treasure them
because even if they gave us nothing, they gave us
life.
However, from a spiritual perspective, our
parents are just an opening fragment in our
spiritual safari. It’s just a split-second beginning.
We have no business with our parents because
we are independent souls doing our ordinary
things. For reasons unknown, we have arrived
here to have our very own experience. So they,
like us, have no right to influence or interfere
with our adventures and affairs because they
can’t possibly know what we are here to build, to
burn, to master and to claim.
Of course, our parents are here to take care of us,
educate us, and give us the best possible start in
life, but that’s about it. And on the contrary, it’s
the children that teach us so much more –
patience, responsibility, unconditional love. They
come and change our lives forever while doing
their assignment.
In my personal life, I can only thank my parents
for all the lessons they have given to me, for all
the strengths I have developed because of them,
and for the dreams and ambitions I have had
because I have chosen my very-far-from-perfect
parents.
I do not doubt that once my parents loved each
other very much, but I didn’t experience much of
it growing up. My first memories of them were
arguing, fighting, and raising their voices far too
often. I clearly remember my mother shattering
their wedding portrait against the floor in front of
me.
Ouch!
I remember tears, a lot of them. I was five.
When I was six years old, they decided to walk
separate ways under two different roofs. I
remember an idyllic summer day by the lake, both
of my parents looking happy. My father is trying
to convince my mom not to sign the divorce
papers. Me, bursting with joy because maybe I
will have my own room in that three-bedroom
apartment we were about to move into. I have
picked the wallpaper with pretty elephants out by
myself. We will no longer live in a tiny room, all
three of us in my grandmother’s house. Didn’t
suddenly, the future look too good to be true?
My mom signed the divorce papers, and just like
that, we were no longer a family. We rented a
room, my mom and me, briefly. My mom was
losing her temper and going to a hospital for a
while.
Soon enough, we moved in with my stepfather. A
great man who loved my mother unconditionally
and raised me as his flesh and blood. I had my
own room there, but there were no pink
elephants on the walls.
Every Sunday, I would see my father in the empty
three-bedroom apartment I never got to move
into. We would eat, watch a movie and I would
leave. After a while, I only would see him every
second Sunday, then third, then once a month.
Every day after school, I would dump my body
on the top of my bed and cry it all out, thinking
how unfair the world is, and secretly, naively
hoping my parents would get back together.
I then stopped seeing my father altogether, but
since we lived in a small town, I would see his
car passing sometimes. When he noticed me
walking home from school, he would stop, ask
me a few formal questions like how school was
going, and then drive off.
I never stopped dreaming they would get back
together, and we would have our normal life
again. I am thirty-two years old, and they still
haven’t gotten back together. Maybe they never
will. My dad remarried.
I also remember that my mom was always busy.
She worked a lot and was heavily pregnant with
my brother when I came home one day and told
her our teacher had asked us to ask our parents
to buy some special crayons for an art school
project. They sold them in one particular store,
and they had to be a certain kind of specific
crayons. My mom handed me the money and
said: “Okay then, here you go! You have the
money, now go on and buy them.”
In that moment, my feelings got bruised. The
teacher told us to ask our parents to get them for
us, and my mother was asking me to get them for
myself. I will not deny that it felt hurtful, and I
could not believe she could be so cruel to a
seven-year-old. Nonetheless, I pulled my big
girl’s pants on and went to get them. I will never
forget my racing heart and sweaty palms
moment, and the swirling thoughts of, What if I
can’t find the crayons?
Nevertheless, I showed up in that store. It felt
incredibly rewarding to see the shelf with the
crayons. I picked up the box and brought it to the
cashier. I then handed her the money and
collected the change. It felt so grown-up walking
out of that store. I wanted to shout from the
rooftops and make sure the whole town heard
how amazing I was.
My mom had taught me a lesson I will remember
for a lifetime – self-efficiency is the key. I also
know she had faith from then on that I would
always be able to take care of myself.
This feeling revisited me when I was twelve. I
was about to go on a trip alone. Of course, I had
to have signed papers by both my parents,
allowing me to travel on my own. And of course,
my mom put me on the bus with a bunch of
sandwiches probably not with an easy heart, but
twelve hours later, my uncle met me at the bus
station in Kyiv. If I could travel alone, I could do
anything in the world, I thought to myself.
That trip was life-changing to me because I got to
spend a week with my uncle and my aunt, and
they were the most incredible, in-love people I
have ever met. They lived and breathed love.
They even made heart-shaped pancakes for
breakfast. It was so warm and caring there that I
experienced love on a completely different level.
Most importantly, I saw that this kind of love,
relationship, and marriage was possible. When I
came back home, I very clearly, in the sharpest
detail, knew what I wanted my life to look like
when I grew up.
Assessment – where have you come from?
Growing up, my body was a shelter for mini anger
demons living inside me. They were angry mostly
towards the world because it seemed like an unfair
place to live. I was born in a tiny town where
saving anything was the greatest skill to have. Save
money, food, electricity, and by all means, try not
to run out of any of those things. So, every night at
eleven o’clock sharp, all the street lights would go
out, and the darkness surrounded everything. I
couldn’t help but wonder why I wasn’t born
someplace more exciting that could at least keep
its lights on at night.
Some get to see the Eiffel Tower which is lit
every night, and I got to watch nothingness.
In my teenage years, like many others, I started
to have nights out and go dancing to escape the
darkness. By the time night was over, I would
walk home knowing every twist and turn and
hole in the road to avoid putting my heels into. I
could proudly bring myself back blindfolded if I
had to, but I hated it! Why couldn’t we live like
normal people I saw on TV?
Somehow, I felt I wanted too much for my
ordinary town, so I promised I’d move as soon as
I could.
Fortunately, years passed, and suddenly
everything became clear to me: the place I was
born into was never misfortune; on the contrary
– it became my mysterious blessing. It had
taught me so much.
Because who would I be if I’d landed in some
royal household with a silver spoon in my mouth?
Oh, I know who I’d be: a spoiled brat who’s bored
with her own breath, passing her days on a fancy
quilted blanket counting her mother’s jewels.
What’s more, how tragic and predictable would
my existence have been?
Here’s what I am getting at: If it weren’t for my
chosen parents and their divorce and my humble
upbringing, I would not have one third of the
drive I have today. If it weren’t for my mother, I
wouldn’t have learned the self-efficiency she
planted within me so early.
If it were not for the place I grew up and limited
access to everything you could imagine, I would
have no burning desire to travel, explore, and be
resourceful. And the saddest part of all, I would
have no ambition for my life. And my ambitions
have exceeded my own expectations. What I am
getting at is this: I could have turned out very
differently if I’d chosen to live with an outdated
blueprint handed to me along with my birth
certificate. I could have stayed a forever wounded
seven-year-old blaming the world for my parents’
divorce. I could have stayed a girl who wouldn’t
smile for a photo because she didn’t feel there
was any reason to smile. I could have said to
myself I wasn’t worthy of anything great, and I
could have married my high school boyfriend and
stayed within the box inside of a box.
But somehow, a tiny part inside me always
whispered that I am meant for bigger things. I
trusted this whisper, more so, I was fascinated
by this part.
Deep down, we all have wounds to lick and
tantrums to calm. We may hold many reasons to
be bitter when we count the misfortunes we
have. All I know for sure is that anger, and feeling
sorry for ourselves, will not help us to live freely
or find that ‘snake in a jungle’, and it will
certainly not let us cut its tail off for good.
The point is our parents, or our guardians, have
done the best they could with the knowledge
they had at that time and place.
Want to know why your parents raised you a
certain way? Look at the childhood they had, and
then having that piece of information in mind,
evaluate how well they mastered their parenting.
Did their parents love them? Did they grow up
with a positive and healthy foundation so they
could pass it on to you? Or were they broken, so
that they were incapable of loving you? Or did
they love you so much that now you are
struggling to find this kind of love in your
relationships? Perhaps you have been brought
up to believe you need to earn love, so you are
hard on yourself and others around you?
Instead of blaming how good or bad our parents
were, why don’t we find the lessons, strengths,
and ambitions we have today because of them?
Wouldn’t that strengthen our faith in our
capabilities? Wouldn’t that make us more
grateful for the life we were given?
Exercise:
Write down:
The positive lessons you have learned because of
your upbringing. Be specific. Give examples.
The strengths you have (because of your parents)
that are serving you today. What are you grateful
for that they taught you, even if it didn’t feel good
while you were growing up?
What were your ambitions for your life? What did
you want to do differently than what your
upbringing taught you that you could do?
Who wouldn’t you be today without them? Why
did you choose your parents at this time on Earth?
What do you think are the lessons you came here
to learn?
Which ambitions of yours have you achieved,
brought to life?
Ambitions
Because I was not the one to settle early, I did
indeed move as far away as I could – to the place
where happy and liberal people live on the top of
the once-found gold deposits. To the place where
I woke up to sunshine, an ocean breeze, and
dreams. Lots of dreams. Not the typical
Christmas-tree scenery you have three-hundred
and-sixty-five days a year in Latvia. This was
California.
I did not dream of going to the States in
particular, I was dreaming of going anywhere
but where I was. I didn’t have the money, visa, or
even good English to begin with. But one thing I
had for sure was a curious heart waiting for an
opportunity to be explored. I vividly remember
that I had this bold inner knowing that I would
go somewhere far, and I would jump into the
cold waters impulsively, spontaneously, without
warning. I didn’t know how this would happen; I
just knew it would.
The Internet was the answer. It was an answer a
decade ago, and even more so today. The
possibilities it offers are limitless. I have turned
to its unlimited source pretty much for
everything: finding my education, booking travel,
finding jobs, locating my coaches, mentors, my
boyfriends, my mom’s friends, and even a man
that made me pregnant – twice. Yes, I swiped and
swiped on dating apps until the swipe became
my future. (Hold that thought.)
Back to my story that led me to States.
I met my then-boyfriend on the Internet. He was
working for a large consulting company, and they
happened to have a branch in my country. And it
just so happened that he found my profile and
was dying to meet me. Against different odds and
many cancellations on my side, we did finally
meet. He took me to places I had never been and
showed me new things in the world. Because we
lived on different continents, our meetings were
planned in advance, and for a year and a half, I
lived out of my suitcases to keep this going.
I was jet-setting so often that I barely saw my
parents, and just like that, my life had changed
180 degrees until we decided that if we wanted
to move forward, we should probably stay in one
place.
By that time, I had gone to a university back
home and dropped out a semester after when I
realized that my Public Relations degree would
serve me only back home. Every cell in my body
was convinced. I was internally sure that I would
not have a life back where I had grown up.
The next obvious choice was to move to the
States. It was a long and tedious process, as it
always is when you are trying to deal with the
government. They denied my visa the first time,
so I had to reapply a year later.
Long story short, I did get my visa and moved to
San Francisco and enrolled in the university to
pursue a degree in fashion. It wasn’t my calling,
to be honest, but at that cloudy time, I didn’t
know what my calling was. I didn’t have
everything figured out yet.
But with my move to the States there came an
end to our relationship because sometimes
things happen out of our control, like volcano
explosions, heavy storms, and the economic
crisis of 2009. My ex had to stay in New York,
and I went on with my studies in San Francisco.
I realized that it would be unreasonable to
expect a different outcome. Things rarely stay as
they are. They evolve with or without our
consent. Sometimes we just need to let go even if
we don’t know why.
And once again, I was blessed with a lifetime
opportunity to do anything my heart desired. I was
free to be myself. You can’t take that for granted.
You can’t just think that the Universe will do its
part for you without you taking full-on
responsibility for doing yours. Realizing that you
are responsible for your life and for what
happens next is both frightening and exciting.
This is my invitation for you to reconnect with
the inner girl living within you and give yourself
credit for what you’ve been, for what you’ve
done, and for who you’ve become.
So, pour yourself a glass or cup of something that
makes your brain tingle and dive in. Girl, we got
some work to do. If you need a visual, I am
pouring a cup of cappuccino with a divine foam
of cashew milk. Tastes delicious! Yep – cashew is
my favorite flavor for now.
Exercise:
What was your biggest ambition, secret dream
when you were a teenager still living with your
parents?
What turned out better than you imagined?
What didn’t quite turn out the way you wanted?
Why do you think that is?
Do you still want the same things?
If you answered YES, write down what you can do
starting today to go for it.
If no, list brand new things you want for yourself.
In doing so, you’re starting an unforgettable
conversation with your inner world, and that’s
what we want you to do – stir up some magic in
your soul, so we start remembering...
Stories We Tell
Now that we have explored and graded the
parenting we were raised with, let’s talk about
our human addictions; patterns, behaviors and
stories – all the fun things we came here to learn
and overcome to complete our assignments.
You see, way before we descended on Mama
Earth, we picked our parents because of the
lessons they could teach us. Those lessons,
however, over time, are meant to transform into
a different substance that like sugar, becomes
highly addictive. We need to have it because
we’ve always had it.
If we take an unbiased look at our lives, we will
soon notice that they consist of new and exciting
fragments and seasons that usually begin with
much fascination and dazzling anticipation. But
as soon as the novelty wears off somehow, the
stories within these fragments keep repeating
themselves. Oddly enough, the characters within
these seasons change, but the outcomes rarely
do. And even if you pack all of your belongings
and move across the world, or change your
nationality, or alter your sexuality, the same
story will follow you from place to place, from
human to human. Because we can only reinvent
what’s on the outside, the inside is trickier, and
some of us will spend a lifetime mastering this
pursuit.
Anyhow, this is all very normal and human. Our
existence and our mental health are based on
these stories that, once planted in us can only
live through us. The story needs its human
collaborator and a believer to live, which makes
you a perfect candidate. It is, however, a vital
part of our spiritual adventure too.
We need a story to work on our
assignments. So, what are these legendary
stories?
The fact is, there are too many of them. Some are
loud, and some are so silent that we may not even
know they are there haunting us, waiting to be
triggered, looking out for a perfect moment to
manifest in our lives. Typically, there is one
massive story we grew up with, so it must be true.
This story is about how one should live, how
others should communicate and how safe or scary
the world is. The story may be so ancient that it
has traveled from generation to generation, and
you may feel honored to pass it along to your kids,
but if you love them dearly, please don’t.
To be more precise, the story is someone’s
fantasy. It is someone’s limited or wild
imagination about a subject they have poor (or
no) knowledge of. So, to believe someone’s story
is like waiting for a middle-aged man to arrive in a
red costume and silver beard on the night of
December 24th. He’ll never come, and you’ll be
waiting forever.
Because of the stories once told, we then spend
years in the dark, being scared of our own
shadow, limiting ourselves, drawing lines in the
sand telling us how far we’re allowed to go. All
because those old uninspiring stories changed
the way we perceive the world. It is only a
perception that no one else but us believes in,
but its force is undeniably monstrous.
It’s so monstrous it manifests in every single
area of our lives. Unfortunately, we are bonded
to the negative stories more than we are to
positive ones.
You see, because grownups told us these stories,
we were obliged to listen, observe, and take in
every particle, cementing them in our brains as
the most truthful information coming from the
most trustful source. By grownups, I mean
anyone older than you – your siblings, your
friends, your relatives, your teachers, your early
bosses, and of course, your parents.
Our immature brain, which was once fertile soil
for accepting seeds of all kinds, has now grown
into majestic trees shadowing reality. That
teacher who said you’ll become ‘a nobody’
because you haven’t memorized the periodic
table. That uncle who said you’ll never become a
business owner because you can’t count. All
those people have decided that you will never be
someone of worth because of something really
silly you have or haven’t done.
And then we grow up believing we can’t apply
for a job we’d like to have, or ask for a raise, or
get what we want because we thought our
teacher was right, and so was our uncle – both
whose lives didn’t turn out to be anything worth
talking about.
Then there are the intimate stories born within
our households accompanied by bold images of
what a family structure looks like or how a
mother or father should be. They teach us what
love is and how it looks and feels.
This why we tend to look for husbands
reminding us of our not-so-perfect fathers, and
why it’s so easy to be like our mothers. This is
why we are ready to date a fossil double our age
if we never had a present father. Even if we have
no aspirations to become our parents or to
choose them as our partners, if we do not
interfere and shake things up, all the roads will
lead the way to end up there – at the very place
we tried to escape. We become them.
We are wired to be attracted to people and
choose situations and relationships where our
pain points get triggered, where we are
reminded of where we came from, and what we
stand for. And then we choose to stay in these
places because it’s all we know. It feels familiar
and homelike, even if it’s unhealthy and toxic.
But we’d rather stay in what we know...
Unless... we choose to take a conscious part in
our spiritual assignment and crush the pattern,
dismantling its roots and telling ourselves and
the others a different story that will end
suffering and pain so natural for our human
ways. The story where we respond differently to
life’s triggers and therefore transform our lives
to its bones.
Because the only truth there is: Most people are
completely delusional about their own skills and
capabilities. Especially women. The majority of
women. We believe we need someone’s blessing,
permission to do the things we want. Because we
have done that since we were little girls, unlike
boys – who rarely, if ever, will read their
mother’s face to decide if they should stay or go.
They didn’t need permission, not then, not now.
Maybe that explains why men are generally more
confident throughout life. They go for
opportunities when they feel sixty-five percent
qualified while women wait to feel a hundred
percent qualified, still to this day in 2020.
We won’t apply for a job if we think we lack one
bullet point on a job description; we won’t ask
for a raise and think we need to work twice as
hard. Or we don’t even believe we can earn
anything, let alone be successful.
Sadly though, no one is ever one hundred
percent ready, less busy, or qualified.
So, it sounds really foolish to base our future on
someone else’s opinion of us when we were
young and vulnerable, and believed anything we
were told, but if things were that easy, everyone
would live on superpowers.
Why don’t we drop the stories that nobody
even believes except ourselves?
This stuff is sticky, tattoo-like, and that means
hardly removable (just ask anyone trying to get
ink removed that was a tribute to their ex). But
Angelina Jolie apparently did it, Eva Longoria did
it, and so did Heidi Klum.
The point is: it’s possible to replace the story
you’ve been told. Which means it’s possible to
start fresh, with a clean slate, and tattoo a new
story if you absolutely must. One that inspires,
motivates, and never makes you think of yourself
as less than what you are.
It’s nearly impossible to achieve great things
when you’re telling an old story.
Anything your heart desires is possible, but
you’ve got to move out of your own way, which
means deciding here and now who you are and
what you’re capable of. You’ve got to lose your
fascination with stories that we both know aren’t
real. You’ve got to drop the attachment to the
story that has been holding you back. Because if
you can’t replace the story, then you need to give
birth to a new one.
What I would like you to do now is to recognize
the uninspiring stories that keep manifesting in
your life. Become clear on naming the personal,
intimate, disruptive stories that stay in the way
of you having an extraordinary experience on
this planet. What stories have you been telling
yourself and the rest of the world? Scribble it all
down, including phrases someone else planted
in you.
Who helped you shape your story? Scribble down
their names.
When did this happen? When did this story come
to life? How many years ago did you say to
yourself who you are and who you aren’t?
When did you start to believe that it must be true?
When did you define who you are?
How are these stories manifesting in your life?
How are they stopping you from living your best
life?
What will happen if you keep telling these stories
of who you are and what you’re capable of for the
next five years?
Where will you be a decade from now if you keep
believing these stories?
How would it feel not to worry about this
anymore?
How would your life transform?
Are you willing to set yourself free from it?
Now that we’ve rewound many years back and
found the wrongful seeds, it is time to fast
forward to many decades from now. Let’s
imagine for a minute that we have a multi
layered cake in front of us with lit candles that
say seventy-five. We are there in our living room
surrounded by guests we love dearly, all
warming up the room with their beautiful
presence. We take our time and look at each of
their glowing faces and feel a wave of gratitude
entering our body. In this eternal moment, you
think to yourself, how blessed the majority of
your years have been, and how each of your
guests standing here has contributed to your
life’s magic in the most unexpected and loving
ways ever known. Your eyes are tearful, and
sunshine floods your soul. And then, right before
it’s time to make your seventy-fifth wish on
Mama Earth, you scan the room once again, and
your eyes meet a young woman standing in the
front of you. Suddenly, there are no more guests,
and it’s just you and her. She is happy and
unsure, and has many questions spinning in her
head, impatiently wanting to be answered. She
wants you to answer because here, maybe as
much as fifty years apart from each other, your
past and future are facing one another.
You blow the candle and invite the woman into
your room and pour a cup of warm cinnamon tea
and share a slice of the cake. You sit comfortably
and take a deep breath before you begin. The
young woman can’t take her eyes away from you.
She is trying to remember every detail of you
because she knows she only has a minute to
glance into the future through your knowledge
filled eyes. It will all end too soon and the young
woman doesn’t want to miss any of it.
Who are you? Are you a silver-haired woman
with a neatly organized bun wearing pearls, or
are you a bohemian goddess, with a wild cheetah
dazzling from within?
Find a quiet space. Close your eyes. Imagine this
wise woman, picturing as many details as
possible – her hair, her face, her body, her smell,
her style. Now place your palm on your heart
and ask whatever your heart wants to know
about now or the future. Remember, you only
have a minute, so make it worthy. Then open
your eyes and write down everything you saw,
heard, and remember.
What was her life? What’s the singular most
valuable lesson about the life she shared with you?
Who, and what, did she tell you not to be afraid of?
With this information at hand, would you rewrite
the story of who you are and who you came here
to be?
