#10.7.2018

Planning my shopping trip to Torrid next week to spend the free money they gave me is like planning a hunting trip. I’m piling stuff into my wishlist online so that I can go in and be like, “Which of this stuff do you have in my size?” and gtfo. Right now, my goal is cute underwear, fishnet tights, and combat boots that don’t hurt my feet. I’d love some jeans, but I still can’t manage to talk myself into getting $60 jeans when they’re $20 at Walmart, even if I’m getting them for free. 

Nothing is really mine. It all belongs to life.

I can’t measure the progress of my growth and make that a part of who I am because that would be taking this fluid sacred process and boxing it into the unit of my egoic existence. I would be missing the whole point. Other people aren’t farther along and I’m not farther along than others. Growth happens where it can. Where the being is open.

There’s no claiming my growth as my own progress because the growth is a process that is sacred and fluid, swollen with the quickening of life. It pushes through all forms of life. It’s all one tender loving rush for awakening however it can, through whatever it can.