It’s remarkable what happens when we dump Disney (I’m an original cast member from Opening Day at Walt Disney World, so I know whereof I speak) and stop either chasing a dream that doesn’t want- or fit- us, and fall in love with the ten pounds we carry cuz it’s us, the wrinkles we sculpted, cuz it’s us, and the stories we’ve built, cuz they are us. It’s not at all being narcissist. It’s giving ourselves permission to be fully in our own skin. It took me damned near 65 years to get there. The current BF (who by the way took umbrage at my stories, which is why they have to disappear to be rewritten) is drawn to the end product, not someone who is looking to be completed. We tend to draw love to us when we generate love, that love that is borne of coming fully into our selves. For some of us it never happens. For a few of us we see the sacred in the mirror. That’s grace.

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