What if who I hoped to be was always me?

It’s been a minute since I’ve published anything. 23 months to be precise. It feels like nothing has changed and everything has changed all at once.

My last post was titled “What happens in the middle of transformation?” Appropriate fucking title John. Collectively and individually we’re in the middle of the transition from the old story to the new. Two years later and I can finally start to answer this question for me individually. In the middle of transformation is a lot of beauty, magic, synchronicity, tragedy, shit sandwiches, heart break, and grief mixed in with some of the most challenging years of my life.

I’m really proud of how I showed up at certain times. I am also ashamed of others. I needed to get my ass kicked by the universe, to get humbled and to find whole new levels of surrender that I didn't even know existed. I’ve had a powerful vision inside of me for years and I’ve been too afraid to take a stand for it. I don’t even like typing that let alone the thought of publishing it, yet here we are.

This past weekend, I was in the middle of a solo meditation retreat to work on a few things, and I heard a song that I’ve heard many times before. But this time it hit different. This is the opening line:

“What if who I hoped to be was always me?”

I’ve been in the middle of this transformation for years, but what if I’m already who I’m trying to transform into? What if I am already the butterfly? What if who I hoped to one day be is already me right now in this exact moment? Yeah John, what if?

I still have a long way to go on this journey, a lot more to learn and even more to embody. A lot of questions and only a few more answers than I’ve previously had access to.

And.

I’m already exactly where I need to be. Exactly who I need to be. Doing exactly what I need to be doing. And that is enough.