The moment I knew. I had to give something was the night before I turned twenty six. An echo of a script I heard was repeating in my ear... Something like, "You'll look back years from now and know that you had your chance at 25." I felt a pull of the tide, my stomach turning and tugging, trying to push something out. But through some years of heartbreak, I thought my offering was already spent. I saw it get stolen, watched it get snatched, and so... what is there to give?
The moment I knew that I had to give something was the night I pushed out the translation of spirit to word, pushed out the publish button, just minutes before midnight, and made a quiet promise that what is instructed for me to do, will be done on time. The thing in me that shines in the center, in every direction, made way for the bundle of light, the offer of a way of life. A being that is filled with, the source by which instruction presents. And so, what I had to give, was what was given into me.