Wild Child

I was told when I was a little girl I was more like a ball of fire than a child. I’ve always been on the run. Marching to the beat of my own drum, a true wild child.

I was an adventurer, a leader, and a ferocious force to be reckoned with. I was whatever I decided in that moment I wanted to be.

As I grew older, the reality of the world around me started to chip away at my confidence and shiny optimism. The world convinced me that magic wasn’t real. I couldn’t bare the thought of settling for that. Over time, I began to dim my light. There was this need to shrink so that I could fit into boxes and please those around me.

What began as a means to find those who would accept me and allow me to be myself in my entirety, started years of self loathing and pretending that I was prim and proper like all the other women and girls I saw in my life. I never felt like other girls growing up. In fact, I never really fit in or related to those around me. I’ve always been an alien, no matter what I do or where I go. I really struggled with this sense of constant loneliness, I didn’t much understand why I was even here on this earth.

I spent my adolescent years wishing I could be just like everyone else, but I struggled to not only fit in, but feel like it was ok to be the authentic me. I had people I loved dearly tell me they hated these cardinal traits about me. Tell me that I needed to be more agreeable or that no one likes someone who speaks their mind. That I was too much, too sensitive, too dramatic, high maintenance, had too high of expectations and should settle and pipe down.

I went through vicious cycles of hating who I was and feeling like the person I wanted to be wasn’t good enough. I lost all sense of self and became a shell. Empty.

After spending so much time being bitter, hating everything about myself, and being constantly exhausted by the life I was existing in, I thought back to how happy I had once been as a little girl. Before the world and its agendas and narratives corroded me and told me who I had to be. Where had the ball of fire gone? What changed?

She was so fearless and brave and whatever she was scared of she still dove head first into. She never asked permission to live or be or exist or dream. She expected the best because she believed it belonged to her. Internally, I asked myself, “What would my life be like if I tried to find that girl again? That fire I used to know.”

An epiphany. A sign.

I was called back to myself. It’s taken a long time to shed all the layers of hurt that took away the soul and shine underneath. I know now that I had to forget who I was to come back home to myself. To be completely lost.

The people who used to belittle and question my character and heart suddenly no longer had access to my energy, my being, my essence and aura. I started to recognize all of the wonderful and unique things that I bring to the table and celebrate them. I started to appreciate my need for honesty and passion in all areas of my life. I started to finally feel the lust for life that was missing for so many years flood back in.

I surrendered and ended the war within.

You see, when you invite and accept every fiber of your being back into your life, magic starts to happen. Life starts to feel less heavy. Suddenly everything makes sense again and the dots of your life begin to connect. It has taken me my whole life to realize that there’s nothing wrong with me. I’m simply not everyone’s cup of tea and for that I am grateful.

Sometimes it takes you forgetting who you are to find yourself and charge full steam ahead at the life you deserve.

I love being this wild child. Some will tell me it’s just coincidence I am this way, but the universe doesn’t make any mistakes. Being able to unapologetically be me is the best gift I could have ever received.

I never knew that I could be the person I had always needed to give me permission to be myself, to show up as I truly am. To give myself the life I’ve always dreamed of. To be the person I have always dreamed of to validate my larger than life existence.

To have complete freedom as within, so without. To be a sovereigned being.

So now, I say what needs to be said, love with an overflowing heart, bare my teeth when necessary, and thank my lucky stars that I found and reclaimed my own power to follow my arrow and pave the way for myself.

I will always be wild and I will never fit in the box that has been made for me. I am a spirit living a human experience. I am unlimited. The creator of my reality.

This is my power.

It is ok if I am misunderstood. Most people can only see me as deeply as they see themselves. I am a mirror to your own consciousness. Those that truly understand me or seek to learn more, have made it here and are reading this for a reason. To awaken and activate. To also be wild.

I’m no longer a little girl, but she still exists within me. She is who I do everything for. She is who dreamed of the person I am now and who I will be. She is still wild.

I am not the stereotype, the narrative others choose, or another cog in the system. I am a rebel. A walking paradox. I am rogue. I am the end of the line. I am a catalyst. I am where the pain transforms itself into beauty and power.

I choose. I AM. This is my life and my story. I rewrote my script and narrative.

What story are you telling?

The Universe’s Muse

I once heard someone say that the human experience is the universe experiencing itself through one unique individual perspective. A way for the universe to know itself. The eyes are the window to the soul. We are spiritual beings, having a human experience. Each of us are perfectly made in this cosmic vision, a work of art; not one person is the same and there will never be another you. Made up of stardust. You are the apple of its eye, the universe’s muse. You are the cosmos.

Life itself is like a play, a game, a movie. We each have a narrative we play over and over again. You are the director, the star of the show, the center of the universe, and the audience all at once.

“In the end we’ll all become stories (Margaret Atwood).”

The story we tell and the role we play is up to us. The tragedy in this life is forgetting who we are and what we come from.

Throughout time, music is the intricate inexplicable medium that colors and records these stories, feelings, and becomes the soundtracks to our lives. It weaves the web of time. Through generations, eras, chapters of history and the human existence. It is profound to say the least. It is this music that we express our emotions through and share the good, bad, ugly, beautiful moments of this thing called life. These songs that we connect to. That make us feel like the main character in our own lives. Music is best felt and connects us all through heart, soul, and the human condition.

My father is an artist. He passed this gift down to me. When I was a little girl he told me that in order for something to be art, it has to make you feel something. That’s stuck with me my whole life. Even if you feel disgust, hatred, sadness. Art is the mirror of our own reflections. Evoking and creating feeling is the artists’ one true job.

If this is the case, each of our stories is a work of art. Us and the lives we lead, the stories we tell, and all of the aliveness we feel from beginning to end is all one beautiful masterpiece. And the music we listen to is the soundtrack to our human experience. This is our cosmic connection.

So with that being said, this is the soundtrack to my life.

I am living the poetry I can not write.

I am my own self fulfilling prophecy.

Hello, I’m Iz Divine.

Welcome to my little universe.

XX