You don’t actively create your magic.

You get out of the way and the magic happens through you.

Like clockwork.

And as you clear more shit / purify your lens, you experience more magic than ever before.

Layers on layers on layers of YUM.

But you’re not creating something new.

You’re unveiling what always was.

Just like a sculptor chipping away to reveal the piece they already know is there.

You’re dissolving whatever imagined blocks you thought existed between you and all that YOU are.

Of course each unveiling feels newer.

Lighter.

Higher.

Truer.

Since you’ve unearthed even more through your perpetual excavations.

But it also feels like home.

Like it’s nothing new at all.

Because you’ve never not been home.

Home is what YOU are.

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