Life is Sacred [poetic essay]

The other day a friend asked me if I believe things happen for a reason, or if they happen randomly. She said she wonders about it all the time.

I told her there are a lot of conspiracies. If the Earth is flat or round. Whether we landed on the moon or not.

But do you know what is the biggest conspiracy of all?

The belief that your life doesn’t mean anything.

That you are just made up of accidents. Mistakes. Luck.

I hope you hear me when I tell you.

Your life is sacred. It is designed for your soul alone. See,

The universe exhaled ever so exactly to give you this identity here and now.

Imagine. You are living your own personal mythological story, broken down into lessons where everyone you meet and everything that has ever happened to you is so carefully arranged

for one reason alone:

to teach you how to wake up.

In the worst of your suffering, the universe begs you to survive. And it will take you to rock bottom so you can find solid ground to stand.

The story of your life will raise you toward the light, if you choose.

But.

You wake up at the rate you wake up. You can’t force a caterpillar to become a butterfly. It stays in the cocoon for as long as it needs, no less and no more.

See.

There are seasons to time, just as there are seasons to the year. So too are there winters and summers in our own lives. In our planet’s life. In our society’s existence.

I’m sure everyone has felt the ice spread through the public sphere by now. Globally, we are going through a psychic winter.

And the universe asks us to shift the balance of our attention. As humanity hibernates, nature blooms once again.

Here.

None of this was by accident. Or mistake. Or luck.

I hope this is what it takes to get us to

wake up.