As I breathe into belly, I listen for other voices, ones affirming my goodness and worth. At first, they whisper softly while the hateful self-shamers shriek and howl. When I learn to listen, focus and quest, the nasties fade into the background and the love occupies the centre of my stage.

“Thou art beloved and dear, a treasured gift to All That Is,” blessing voices state in tones of truth. Doubtful mind seeks certainty: might I be making this up?

Silly mind, it doesn’t matter. Such thoughts are boon and bounty, fuel for the flames of a sacred self-love revolution.

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