This is for the bada** phoenix-hearted females who have fallen down a thousand times.

The gritty goddesses who have been rising and rising from the dirt-streaked, tear-stained edges of shattered pasts, broken dreams and tender, bruised memories.

This is for the wild mamas who are waking up to their hearts right now.

The ladies who are done putting themselves last, muting the sacred whispers of their soul, and turning away from the succulent stirrings of their truth.

This is for the women who refuse, for one minute more, to apologize for who they are.

This is for the fierce women who are ready to fly.

Yes, this is for any woman who is ready to unzip her shiny mask, drop all those goddamn “should’s” down the drain, put her people-pleasin’ days behind her, take off her pretty little good girl pants and lead with the radiant, rumbling roars of her soul.

Hell yes. This is for me. And you.

The past few years have been hard, haven’t they?

Painful. Dark. Exhausting. Deliciously transformational.

Our lives may have crumbled, collapsed, or changed rapidly, like crashing ocean tides destroying sweet sandcastles.

But we owned our sh*t, found beauty in the breaking, and put ourselves back together again in a whole new way.

A real way.

We look so different than we used to, for we’ve gotten our hands dirty. Our hearts have fresh scratches on ’em and our knees are bruised, but we washed ourselves clean in the gushing rivers of our tears; we dug deep into the dark, shadowy holes of our hearts, and in that ripping discomfort, we found sparkling rubies of truth.

With courageous feet, step by step, breath by breath, we climbed up massive, menacing snow-dusted mountaintops we thought we’d never conquer. We faced our fears and met our demons—all with unquestionable bravery beating in our hearts and tender tears falling from our eyelashes.

And we have survived—but really, we have thrived.

In the darkness, in the struggle, through it all—we have blossomed, bloomed and become the heroes of our own stories.

We’re still blossoming, unfurling tenderly, like a tangerine-dipped lily in late spring. But one thing is for sure: the past lies behind us now. Its ashen pages lie yellowed and crumpled, the blotches of smeared ink still tell of not-so-pretty memories, but it’s over.

As those pages burn, as we move forward, we are bathed in the unshakeable fiery light of truth.

We are transformed—completely transformed.

Right now, we are exactly where we need to be. We are exactly who we need to be.

Because through each tricky trial and tribulation, through each wicked storm and wild heartbreak, we have begun the powerful process of releasing everything that doesn’t serve us anymore—people who don’t honor us, relationships that are half-hearted, jobs that dull us down, lives that don’t stoke our hearts’ thirsty desires.

And through it all, our souls have been revealed. Truths have tumbled out of our mouths, and our purpose has tapped us on the shoulder, landing finally in the palm of our hands, like a precious butterfly.

We have undergone an intense preparation period.

And now—

We’re ready to fly.

It’s time to live the life we’ve dreamed about for so long.

To make our mark on the world. To boldly live our soul’s purpose. To be of benefit in a uniquely brilliant way.

The truth is, we can’t hold ourselves back anymore.

We no longer have the luxury of hiding. Life won’t let us off the hook; the buzzing, electric pulses of our juicy beating hearts won’t allow us to turn away from ourselves anymore, and we can no longer ignore our soul’s sapphire-scented whispers.

It’s time.

Let’s reach inside—deep, deep inside—merge with our shadows, honor our wounds and claim our worth.

Let’s throw our magic out in the world, not worrying so much about being perfect or getting it right.

And for f*ck’s sake, let’s stop coating our words in strawberry-dipped sorry’s.

What do we have to be sorry for, other than being so goddamn hard on ourselves every day?

Our sentences don’t need sorry’s stitched in them, especially when they’re soaking wet with truth.

Trust in your truth.

It doesn’t need to be explained, rationalized or apologized. It speaks for itself.

And it’s time now, to stand vividly in that truth—

This moment is yours. This life is yours.

Claim it.

Because you are ready.

It’s been dark for so long; I know it has. But right now, let’s look up to the sun.

Let’s feel its decadent warmth spread across our trembling eyelids as dripping golden rays stoke the fire we’ve been building inside.

Step outside your soft and fuzzy comfort zone, and feel the fresh, sweet, lilac-scented wind lick your skin.

Yes, feel the ancient breezes of truth rip right through you.

It might hurt at first, it might feel scary as hell, but let it remind you that there is a gigantic, juicy world out there full of tingly possibilities waiting for you, needing you, wanting you.

Yes, you.

The real you.

The you that’s begging to show her raw, beautiful face.

The you that you’ve been hiding for far too long.

The you that has infinite awesomeness to offer.

Rise up.

Look life right in the face.

Greet this day, this moment, this second—

Let love grow and grow and grow in your heart, consuming your insides, blossoming into a brilliant purple flame—oh, yes—and let it burn away all the sh*t you don’t need anymore.

Sit alone, so perfectly alone, under the ripe full moon and let moonbeams weave through your hair,

Let the bedazzled starry night sky be your ally,

And pledge yourself

To yourself.

Feel all your lost pieces return to you, all the imperfect, messy ones, like specks of familiar, long-lost soul dust.

Welcome them back into your skin with open arms

As you fly,

As you savor this moment, as you squeeze it like a ripe tangerine;

As you soar,

As you explore jasmine-scented sunsets soaking with truth, dusted with unapologetic dreams,

Make a pact

And pledge yourself

To yourself.

Promise never

To stray from your soul’s

Boundless wisdom

Again.

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Relephant Read:

For the Women who are Meant for More.

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Author: Sarah Harvey

Editor: Toby Israel

Photo: Mateus Lunardi Dutra/Flickr

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