You were born under a meteor shower. Shooting stars raced through the night, sharing their stardust to celebrate your arrival.
The sun had not slept at all in anticipation of you. She brought the morning early in honor of your birth. “For love, Child. Love,” she said as she covered the sky in fire and amethyst.
All who met you that day marveled at your perfection. They cradled you, smelled your head, and softly sang of love.
When you took your first steps, the flowers bowed before you and laid their petals at your feet. In a chorus, they chanted, “Follow love, Child.”
The day you learned to speak, the summer raindrops brushed your mouth and taught you the voice of love.
“Love,” you said.
“Love, Child. Love,” they answered.
On the day you learned to explore, you filled the afternoon with inquiry. You looked up at the sky, with wide eyes and wild hair, your whole body open to the mysteries and magic of the world, and you asked, “What am I here for?”
The birds called down to you, “Love, Child.”
You asked the mountains how to stand so tall and the river where you came from. Lying in her shade and eating her fruit, you asked the peach tree who you’d grow up to be. And as you climbed into bed that night, you asked the stars what you are made of.
They all sang back their simple refrain, “Love, Child.”
You yawned and closed your eyes. “Love,” you whispered with a smile.
Soon you could run and leap. You raced the wind and dove into the crisp fall leaves. Your laughter echoed through the valley. You asked the earth, “Who will catch me if I fall?”
She held you and flashed her brown and green and golden smile. “Why, love, Child. Love,” she laughed.
When the time came to raise your sails, you walked to the shore and asked, “What am I meant to do with this life?”
The sand told you of the sea and the great journey that awaited you.
You took one step into the ocean and paused. “But what If I’m afraid?” you asked.
The water curled around your ankles and reminded you of the simple truth, “You love, Child.”
“Love,” you said.
You breathed deeply and pointed your boat toward the horizon. You hoisted your sails, caught the wind, and sailed off into the unknown.
“May you love, Child. Love,” the waves cheered as they lifted you.
And so you did. You lived and loved. You felt joy and pain. You saw the many wonders of the universe, the brightest lights, and the depths of darkness. Your future unfolded before you in infinite possibility, and you grew bigger and stronger than you could have imagined.
Then came the day when the world cried out to you. You could see that she was hurting.
“What do I have to give?” you asked. The question rang in your ears.
You sat beneath the sky hoping the sun and wind would answer. You looked down at the flowers and found them looking up to you. The mountains looked on from the distance, and the trees swayed overhead.
“You,” they said.
You nodded. You turned your hands over and over, studying the lines on your skin before cupping them around your face. You closed your eyes and wept until they fell silent.
And in the quiet, from deep within, the answer came to you. “Love, Child. Love.”
This was an excerpt from my newest book in the making, Love, Child. Love. Look out for more here and follow along as I share bits and pieces on Instagram and Facebook @leslieromeroralph. And if you know someone who would appreciate this message, share it!
Need a moment for peace and love? I made this for you:
The 2-Minute Revitalizing Meditation. It’s a little moment for peace and love, and it’s my gift to you.