The heart of my hearth

In the heart of my hearth is strength. A rhythmic beat. The rhythm. The very soul. The core. That is me. My very being. Gone is the woman who thought me fat and bought me skim milk, eating butter and avocados in front of me. Telling me I could not partake for I would get fatter and fatter.

She could not see me. And that is okay. Maybe I could not see her either. We were not aligned in that way.

No one knew I was athletic, least of all me, although I dallied with track and dance. My body was malleable, shrinking with physicality then ballooning up when that went by the wayside, once again giving me the opportunity to show a certain kind of strength. Determination. Discipline.

I’d diet and have strict rules. I'd run every day and do races and marathons. And yet… Was that my love? I coaxed it to be such. But it was still an outside love, no mirror to the inside.

This year I started with the love of my flame. The love of my core. I started with strength. My personal strengths. My physical strengths. What if I focus there? Cultivate love and boost and feed that fire? Well, I'll tell you what happened, happens and is happening. I feel strong. I love myself. Confidence is returning. I'm finding the strength of steadiness. A feeling like me. I'm not proving. I'm curious and liking what I'm finding. I didn't have an expectation. How beautiful is that? I trusted and trust in the unfolding. That is the heart of my hearth.