Edith Piaf is swooning and waltzing in my speakers; tunes that I have always found very soothing. She was a revolutionary, an orphan and a national hero. There is a timeless quality in her voice, perhaps because she is from a time that existed before I was born, before television and computers. A time when folks would sit in their homes the smell of cooking and bakeries wafting up from the Paris streets, pondering the things about life that make it worth living, contemplating their struggle, their country, their lovers and their life. Certain artists in one’s life may speak to us on a core level; we feel they are telling our very own stories through their poetry, their music. Edith speaks to me of a slower time, of time slowing in general. I can slow down my life and cherish the simple things in life per her suggestion.

I am thankful for an increased interest in finding a gentle path to myself and my life’s center and purpose. What seems to matter more than what people think, what my accomplishments appear to be or the stylishness of my clothes, my performance in front of others, is finding my sensitive core and becoming in touch with it. I find my awkward self, my sensitive tendencies, working their way to my surface. And though at times I am forced to witness the cracks in my life, it feels liberating. Life is too short to pretend, and this pretending and acting is a form of lying. It comes from a place of fear; fear that I am not perfect enough, not good enough. Slowly I am learning that God has blessed me with a unique make up that consists of making mistakes and fulfilling a life path and purpose that is meant to be bumpy, organic and real. There are spots on my apples, bruises on my avocados, there is paint on my clothes and dust has settled in my house. What matters most is what is inside of me, and as fleshy organic creatures, we know that we all are unique when you dissect our corpses. Our noses, freckles, the shapes of our legs and hues of our veins all vary. No two trees or flowers are alike, and yet we all crave to fit a mold. We all crave to behave like a sitcom, perform a made up story of success. What could success really mean for me? Do I not wish to attain inner freedom, encounter true love, self-knowledge and peace? As a sensible person I should know that what I am wearing, what I have achieved in school or what my credit score is has nothing to do with where I actually am in life. Yes, there are pressures to be a certain way, and no one wants to witness or sit next to a gushing faucet, but it is also not commonly accepted in society to want to better ourselves spiritually, and many who popularize this sort of journey seem to be doing it for the wrong reasons or even approach hypocrisy.

This is why I need God and Edith. Both know what really matters to me. Both can see into myself and read and observe my original colors and appreciate them. With them at my side I begin to know myself better, and care less how I appear to others. My inner voice is growing stronger, and as it begins to have more faith in itself, I am willing to let all my colors and bruises exist freely. Vulnerable and unattached, I just happen. I am beautiful in this real and organic happening, and the only judgment is that I am loved.