The Year of You
I don’t just wish you a Happy New Year – I wish you an amazing year, an awe-inspiring year, a Holy Mother of Goddess Year.
The Year of YOU.
A year filled with goodness and kindness and generosity and joy and love and peace and creativity and audacity, and yes, yes, goddess yes, great sex.
A year where words become our weapon of choice and the pen proves – without a shadow of a doubt – to be much mightier than the sword. A year where we see our ballots out-numbering bullets, where silence is no longer golden, where being outspoken – bold and provocative – is all the rage, and being nasty and mean-spirited goes out of fashion.
A year when opening our arms outweighs the right to bear arms and all children run into their parents bare arms at the end of the day.
A year filled with magic and miracles; some unexpected wrong turns that turn into your mission; a year that brings you more than you expected, a year that proves once and for all that you are more than enough and it is high time – overdue time – that you know that you’re a gracious plenty with every single fiber in your stunning and glorious being.
A year that you stand up – stand tall – in your glorious sexy messy fierce and mighty power, that you strut your gorgeous stuff and you flutter your badass wings and you show the world what you are made of; a year where you stop putting yourself and your dreams on hold – a year where you stop shoving and hiding those dreams away in some drawer next to other dreams and never worn lingerie and love letters never sent.
A year of ‘no way am I putting this on the back burner because this has my name on it and yeah, you bet, I am going for it.’
A year when we take back our country because yes, it is our country to take back and WE ARE THE PEOPLE and no one – not one soul – has the right to take that from us, or to bully us or to stand in our way; a year where we take to the streets because, yes, the streets are ours to take.
A year where we rise up and rise strong and rise together and know that we are indeed the occasion that we are in fact rising up for; that we declare our worth, declare our value and no, we will not back down or cower or retreat because contrary to all fake rumors, fear and hate have absolutely no shelf life, and mean does not age well.
This is the year where hand baskets go out of fashion, because we are not going to hell, we are going to raise hell.
This is the year we resist every single thing and every single human and every single action and every single deed holding us back from doing and creating what we were put on this earth to do: to be grand and epic and huge and to stand out, not stand behind.
This is the year where we stop saying behind every great man is a great woman because the hard core absolute truth is without us men would not be here – period, no pun intended.
This is the year we make a ruckus and own our lives outright and out-loud.
This is the year we open carry our lives.