Two years ago, I didn’t know what a brand was.
I had one, but it wasn’t intentional. I shared; people listened.
Then, those who were listening told me to check out this person or that person who were also spitting out similar material to what I was—in various versions.
It’s hard to get my attention; but, when you’ve got it, my whole heart is in your hands. Some people have guided me to check out spiritual teachers who intellectualize someone else’s version of truth rather than actualize their own. Others have made me think, “Yes! You’re my f*cking friend! You know what’s up!”
Those are the ones who have my attention. And, usually, the ones who have my attention have it because—somewhere in the cosmos—we both experienced the same vision of the world.
If you don’t know of Danielle LaPorte, you must! Almost everything she says has me thinking, “Yes! She knows!”
There’s one thing she says, though, that particularly makes me feel like a horse bucking in a stall after the gun has gone off—with the stall door stuck closed:
“She will never arrive.”
What she means is, she’ll never be a fully enlightened being, I suppose; and, in this context, I get it.
But, there’s such a distancing effect that takes place in those words.
I get her point, but I have a different one to make from this statement.
We don’t have to earn the shoes we wear on our way to the microphone, but we do have to earn the microphone.
Our egos will tell us that anyone who has earned the microphone and moves thousands of people beyond measure has arrived somewhere far as f*ck—in a way better direction than most of us could even imagine. To reach her feels like it would require light-year speed.
In soul and in ego, she has arrived.
And so have you—exactly where you are with exactly what you have (or don’t have!).
I have arrived. Right where my soul intended to land before it incarnated.
Arrival is not for the faint of heart in a world of spiritual escape artists who numb out the experience of what it feels like to exist within the borders of bodies.
Your feet have landed on the Earth by spiritual choice. And, your life actions have landed you where you are—based on your willingness to allow your own arrival.
Self-work breaks down the walls that keep us distant from ourselves so we may see the world clearly, and be beautifully reflected back by it.
We arrive, at birth, in a body we learn to escape from through trauma. And our job, while we walk through our lives, is to continue arriving. To continue experiencing humanness—which is the experience we came for.
Through the practice of embodiment, we get to feel our arrival, over and over again.
Embodiment is as simple as recognizing that each individual cell in your body is at work on your behalf right now and, if you love each of them, your beauty will be undeniable.
Embodiment is honoring the reality that each individual part of your body (which you often neglect to feel), is having a unique experience of its own. If you listen, each part will show you what it feels like to live on your behalf.
Embodiment is walking in the woods and feeling your feet on the ground, sobbing violently through heartache, witnessing something traumatic, and sticking with spiritual sight—not escaping into the ethers.
Embodiment is epic orgasms, safe touch, saying what’s actually f*cking true for you.
Embodiment is feeling our feelings, being present to what is, and being gentle with ourselves.
It’s grabbing your own ass—cellulite and all—with a hand you just kissed and saying, “Thanks for having my back, girlfriend.”
Our job, while we’re here, is to arrive into the experience of being here—not to escape out of it with some notion that we will never arrive at something (often when we don’t even know what that something is).
Self-work opens the doors to “arrival.” Embodiment invites us in.
You will arrive because that’s exactly what you’re here to do.
In fact, you already have arrived.
Author: Stacy Hoch
Editor: Leah Sugerman
Copy Editor: Nicole Cameron
Social Editor: Nicole Cameron