Let it Burn.

One the gifts of depression is that it burns down all the buildings that were shoddily built by the part of your personality that wants so badly to belong.
But, belonging never comes from anything other than you being you.
When the buildings burn down, all that is left is the multidimensional truth of being, and holy cow is it terrifying to sit there surrounded by the rubble lies that were only crafted with the best of intentions.
I know when I start seeing BS in every direction, I am about to enter the burning.
I’ve learned (mostly) to let it burn. To trust it as a kind of fierce and loving grace like the way the redwood trees know how to be born only after the fire comes to crack open their tiny little seeds.
When you have eyes that see and ears that hear and a heart that feels, the world seems mad most of the time. But every once in a while, after the buildings burn, you look around, and you thought you were alone, but there are other people there, sitting in the center of their own rubble.
It’s important to know how to call to each other. There’s a different way of speaking in this place.
There’s a different way of seeing.
You will recognize it because your skin will be translucent, and your heart will be wide, and your legs will be solid.