All of my life, I was fighting to show I was special.

My parents were not the type to tell me I was special, and I didn’t feel special. They thought I would have an ordinary life. Grow up, get married, have kids. 

I resented that this was what they thought I would become, so I rebelled. I envisioned myself as something else.

I set out on a life to show I was special. I became independent. Successful in an analytical career. Going on adventures, eating incredible food locally and around the world. I did enjoy these things, to a certain extent. It certainly fulfilled my ego to show them they were wrong.

I was fighting so hard to show that I am special, that I missed something that was calling out deep inside me, that I was ignoring.

Really, I am quite simple.

In my deepest of hearts, what I really am, is a simple heart.

In a meditation a few months ago, Mary Magdalene showed me this. She invited me to a white chapel. As I looked around, the chapel was small, quaint, filled with light, but not too much. She walked into my little chapel and held my hand.

Mary Magdalene said to me, “Look at this place. This is the place of your heart.”

Inside, there were no signs of the successful career I’d had, or the cool adventures I had been on. Really, there was nothing, but pews, and a table. It wasn’t even decorated. There were two jars representing my beloved late cats, Leo and Paintfoot in the corner. That was it.

I’d been running from my simple heart, my entire life.

Really, I know that deep down, this was what my parents had recognized within me, as a child. It wasn’t a bad thing. I was innocent, and there was part of them that was scared I’d be eaten up by a nasty world. 

I had taken this cue as needing to toughen up. 

And maybe I did. Maybe all of my path was meant to be. 

So that I can come back.

And know the worth of my simple heart.

In gratitude, Bonnie
💜🌈🌞✨