Everything I want is already mine

So I have this boy, a little boy who was brought. It’s here, inside, looking through my eyes, pulsing with my pulse, curious and playful about everything that’s shiny. He’s been told to be good. He’s been told to wait for things, wait for his turn, his chance, to express desire and cry for help.

Surrounding that boy there’s the man. A shape made through this world, sometimes adapting to the mold and sometimes breaking it, like a tree that grows against everything on his path.

And sometimes life tells I’m just a piece being removed from the board. Like when you enter a new game that says “it’s over” and you’re supposed to eat your dust.

And my boy gets in pain: Hey, all that stuff that I want. Why does nobody care to give them to me?

And I say: There’s pain, pain has to move, so make your world move.

Everything I want is already mine.

The boy only understands about the love he gets. But a man is given nothing. When somebody loves a man, he’s been told: Come here and take me. Come here and make me yours.

Everything I want is mine to take.

Years ago I was into this dramatic spiritual contemplation, strongly feeling this desire, deeply connecting with everything I was and letting it flow, doing nothing about it. So much emptyness. So much zen. So much energy that I could heal others with my hands. So much pain. Because the universe gave me nothing, and the world was such a horrid, sad little place.

But when that pain gets in motion, anger, gets in motion, the universe surrenders so easily.

Even the higher, unreachable fruit is at my reach when I climb to that tree. When I throw a stone and take them down. When I look for a ladder. When I. When its on me.

Everything I want is already mine. When I.

The boy freaks out.

How am I going to know what’s for me if nothing is given to me? He says. How am I going to know what I have to do if there are no rules? how am I going to make decisions, how to know what’s worth it, if everything is to be earned on my own?

My answer: Because I want it. What I want is what is worth it. It starts here.

But ain’t that just going random? He says. Shouldn’t there be something that was made just for me, something that chooses me, something that says, I am for him? Something that surrenders. Something I don’t have to pay for.

My answer: What I want is what is meant to be mine. What was born made to be mine, is what I was born made to want. It starts here.

The universe ain’t testing us. It just shaking smoothly. With its beautiful treasures and blowing it’s trees to the wind. And its all ours. And I’m not shaking with it.

Everything I want is already mine.