Come here.
Right here. Get closer. Real close.
Can you feel my breath on your cheek? Yes? Good.
Now take off your clothes.
You heard me. All of them. Right now.
It’s time to get naked.
Everyone needs to strip down now and then, to get naked and let the wind breeze blow across bare skin so that every last nerve ending feels exquisitely alive.
Feeling shy? Of course you are. Those clothes cover up a lot that you’re more comfortable hiding away. They hide fear and shame and all your tender and achy parts. Bumps and bruises and those spots where your skin got sheared clear away by that wipeout.
You’ve got not-good-enough moments tucked in your pockets and repeated pleas of i-couldn’t-possibly hidden under your hat. Why, you’re even wearing sunglasses inside so I can’t see the depths of pain behind your eyes.
Sweet girl, let me hold those for you – you don’t need them here.
We’re so accustomed to tucking it all away, thinking it more polite or acceptable to keep it to ourselves – making snarky comments at those who feel free enough to parade it all for the world to see. We’re constantly afraid that one of our layers might shift or be blown up in the breeze; exposing the parts we keep deeply hidden and fiercely guarded.
We laugh too little, and we don’t cry near enough. We judge ourselves with harsh words and harsher actions; thinking we’ll beat the world to the punch by taking ourselves out first. We silence our voices, limit our choices and hide our magic under layers and layers of protection.
This, my friends, takes a ton of energy. This keeps you from the brilliance that only comes with being seeing and being seen and loving it all anyway. You know what? This year has too much in store for you for you to even consider continuing this way. This year demands boldness, and physicality and sensuality and moxie like none has before. There are times in life for playing small, for covering up and hiding away.
This, sweetness, is not one of those years.
This year is about claiming, about living fierce with reality, about celebrating your inherent holiness and getting down with your goddess self. And it’s hard to shake your divine booty when it’s covered in layers and layers of stuff.
Lets take care of that right now.
It all starts with getting naked. Shedding and peeling and tearing all that does not serve you. Culling and paring down what holds you back. Dismantling walls and protective layers and all that keeps you distanced from your one, magical life.
That cloak of self-deprecation? Gone.
That skirt made of long-held shame? Burn it.
Those too small shoes that you thought you needed to be beautiful? Garbage.
The pockets stuffed full of unspoken dreams? Empty them now.
That big old ugly sweater knitted from every hateful word you’ve ever absorbed?
Fuck. That. Shit.
It’s time to take off those clothes, dammit.
I’ll put on some music. Get you a stripper pole if you like. By the soft light of a hundred candles or right in the center of the spotlight. I’ll feed you chocolate dipped strawberries with whipped cream.
If you need me to, I can help. Look you straight in the eyes, transmit universal love and unbutton the buttons. Spiritual Seduction delivered exactly as needed. We can do this long and drawn out and fast and dirty. The end result is all the same.
There you’ll stand. Without your armor. Without talismans or amulets and everything you always wanted and thought for sure you needed to get by. All of it. Gone.
And there you are. Just you. Utterly, breathtakingly perfect.
You’ve let it all go now, and aren’t you the beauty? Just as you are. None of that stuff was necessary. And yes, you want to run and hide. You’re cowering in preparation for the judgment and the cold air and the wash of shame that is sure to come.
Except it doesn’t. The air is warm and the room is filled with nothing but love. No judgment. No harsh words.
You can dance by yourself whenever the music moves you. You can read your poem to 300 people even though your legs are shaking. You can submit that novel that you poured your heart into to the best publishing house in the country. You can learn to sky dive, go back to school, birth your baby on your own terms, end your marriage, fall in love, raise your voice, speak your mind, invite the consequences of living your truest life. It’s all yours for the taking.
We’re too awestruck by your beauty to even consider it. We’re blown away by your courage and in awe of your strength. There you are, doing the very thing we know we should do but can’t quite make ourselves commit to.
And with the removal of all that did not serve, there is space cleared to call home what is already yours.
Call it home, darling, call it home.
You can dance by yourself whenever the music moves you. You can read your poem to 300 people even though your legs are shaking. You can submit that novel that you poured your heart into to the best publishing house in the country. You can learn to sky dive, go back to school, birth your baby on your own terms, end your marriage, fall in love, raise your voice, speak your mind, invite the consequences of living your truest life. It’s all yours for the taking.
It’s all yours for the taking.
And when you’re ready to get dressed again you’ll find only the finest fabrics; sheer, light and beautiful. In colors that make you shine from the inside out. And although you could choose to cover yourself again, you wouldn’t dream of it. You’ve witnessed the magic of transparency and seen how crazy beautiful the world looks with your light shinning on it.
Plus – you are on badass hot mama in your birthday suit. Don’t let anyone EVER tell you otherwise.
