The Return from Exile

The liberation I most need — the kind that moves me most deeply —
is the liberation of myself from myself:
from the parts of me that hold the other parts hostage.

The ones I’ve judged, banished, imprisoned.
Those are the parts I most want to free,
because I know how good it feels when one of them returns —
the rightness of letting a part of myself come back from exile,
the clarity, the power, the deep sense of wholeness.
Most of all, the feeling of being more myself.

How can anyone feel whole
while parts of themselves are still in prison?

Somehow, I’ve learned to judge many of my desires harshly,
to mistrust my own longings.
And I can feel the collective shadow trying to keep that judgment alive —
whispering that I should contort myself into a convenient shape,
something acceptable.

But I no longer desire to be convenient.

Come whatever may.
If I doom myself to failure — so be it.
I am at peace with that.

Because I’m betting the path I’m following
will lead me somewhere more beautiful than I can yet imagine.
It hasn’t been an easy path — resistance meets me both within and without.
I suspect it always will.
But it feels worth it.

I’m willing to trust my inner guidance,
even when others think I’m wrong.
If someone wants to call me bad —
or any of the words we fear most — so be it.
I would rather be misunderstood
than abandon the part of me that knows what is deeply good.

I feel the divine in the pull of my own heart.

That call has become the only thing that truly moves me.
It feels like gravity moving the oceans,
sunlight coaxing a flower to bloom.
My path is meant to unfold
in the presence and pull of such divine forces.

I am not lazy because I am unmoved by the uninspired.
I am not ungrateful because I want more.

This is my path —
maybe not everyone’s —
but mine.

And perhaps this is how I die triumphant:
by adoring the simplest, purest things,
and moving only toward my truest feelings, desires, and motivations.

I know I’ll be misunderstood,
maybe even judged.
But I won’t take it as proof that I’m wrong.

That’s the false premise we live inside:
that freedom is a virtue, but only within certain bounds.
That we should love what we love — but not that.
Follow our truth — but not there.

The taboos of the moment
always reveal what freedom we still resist and fear.

But real liberation has never been about convincing anyone else.
It’s not about being accepted or understood.
It’s about accepting myself,
understanding myself,
honoring myself — without reservation.

This life is my own experiment.

I want to see how it turns out when I live this way.
When I love this way.
When I trust myself this deeply.

I love feeling free.

That feeling didn’t come easy.
I worked for it —
as much as anyone has ever worked for anything.

It has been the daily work of my life.
And it will continue to be.

Because every time I free another part of myself,
I become more whole —
and more willing to live the truth of who I am.