Whenever I’m asked about my religion, I have a hard time giving clear answers.

As I’ve grown up, my beliefs have evolved from those of an obedient girl to those of a boldly curious and deeply spiritual woman.  While the questions I began to ask scared me at first, I have come to see them as necessary in discovering and living what I believe to be the truth.

The other day, a friend asked me about it. I gave her as clear an answer as I could at that moment: I believe in a divine being—in God—and that this divinity dwells within every living thing. But beyond that, I told her “I don’t know.”

After giving it more thought, I realized that I do know, that what I believe is actually quite clear. It may not be “religious” as we conventionally define it, but it’s what I see as the truth and what I choose to live regardless of any organized practices or affiliations.

So, this is what I believe:

I believe in gratitude.

I believe in feeling so deeply grateful that the coinciding warmth in my heart makes me cry, and I believe in giving thanks with those tears. With every whisper, I explain my love the only way I know how: by honoring and praising this world of blessings. What more could I ever need than this?

I believe in this—all of it.

I believe in love in every capacity. I love to love everyone, myself included. There are times when I really suck at expressing it—when I lose sight of the beauty woven into tangible moments and instead feel bombarded by my own insecurities. I’m guilty of choking on love and even avoiding it sometimes. I have my fears and reservations despite my heart’s desires to be open and vulnerable.

But I’m getting better at catching myself and returning to this undying intimacy. With every heart-stopping scare, I pause and breathe back into the warmth of courageous empathy, and I remember that to love is to be who I am.

I believe in the miracle that is the human body. I believe in loving it, moving it and honoring the magic of the soul that dwells within its divine quarters.

I worship this body—all bodies.

I believe in rising with the sun. My favorite thing in the world is waking up. The simple kindling of consciousness alone stands in the pulse of possibility—a place where anything can happen.

And while I love a gorgeous sunset, I prefer the soothing ease with which the sun rises; moment by moment, the silence of the night fades into the blissful softness of brightening colors—still silent, but with different tones, and I feel safe in the subtleties of this daily revelation. I adore the light that holds me, flooding every inch of my skin as well as that of the earth around me.

I believe in this light, and—although I will admit I never fully outgrew my fear of the dark—I believe in the darkness that makes this light even brighter.

I believe in music so loud and full that it creates a world of its own.

Yes, I’m that girl who blasts Katy Perry’s feel-good anthems at least twice a day just so I can remember that I’m awesome. And last I checked, I can only count on one fellow wild thing to remind me to roar or tell me “baby, you’re a fiiiiiiirework!” at my convenience.

But beyond that, I believe in being swept away by rhythms and letting the strings of tunes comb my hair like an ocean breeze. I believe in the infinite layers of sound reaching anywhere and everywhere, touching all parts of existence—even the ones I have yet to understand and the ones I never will.

I believe in making things happen when I should and letting things happen when I can, but I’m not the greatest when it comes to deciding which is most appropriate to do. I’m learning.

I believe in the process of becoming me.

I believe in little victories born of draining losses and that hope is a thing to live, not just to lose or gain. I believe that things happen because they should, because they’re leading me to things I wouldn’t have otherwise found and with each step, my wings grow a little broader and stronger.

Yes, I believe in wings.

Sometimes mine forget how to fly, and they often need time to rest while I deepen my roots; but then, when they’re ready, they pump with the pulse of my heart and I can soar.

I believe I am meant to shine—to be brilliant and splendid. We all are.

We’re gorgeous.

But I also believe in being a mess. A spastically babbling and perfectly twisted mess. Because being “normal” (which I have yet to observe in any human being I’ve ever met) seems really boring. And in all my attempts to achieve “normal,” I only ever got weirder and messier. So I’ve stopped trying to be anything (clearly) and voilà! I’m the best damned me you will ever meet.

(You’re welcome.)

I believe in being strong when I can be and being sad when I need to be. I believe in having the heart of a lion and the soul of a dove, in playing with the balance of fierce and calm and in being a warrior for good.

I believe in transformations that keep remnants of the old embedded in the tremors of the new. I believe in growing where I’m planted, but never being afraid to go where I’m guided.

I believe in being so still that my heart could run for miles without the rest of me.

Wherever she chooses to run, that’s where I go; wherever I go, that’s life.

And I believe in life—all of it.

“She unfurls her wings. She speaks her mind. She is a beautiful parcel of boldness and grace, all wrapped together, brilliant. Shining. The more of her own light she allows to shine, the more others shine too. From high up, she imagines they must look like a constellation.

She wants to be beautiful, wants a flash, a spark, a rare and wonderful spirit that everyone sees. But before all of that, she wants to respect herself. As is. Even the shaky parts. Because even the shaky parts have a shine to them that doesn’t fade. She grows ever strong in the life she has made.”

~ M.H. Clark, I Am Her

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Editor: Bryonie Wise

Photo: Tavin’s Origami