Take a deep breath,
Green One.
Not a polite one,
A real one.
Kind that reaches into the deepest corners of your ribs.
The kind that spreads.
That makes sounds.
That lets your belly swell and get big.
Now let your shoulders drop.
Let your spine grow tall like a tree that doesn't ask permission to reach for the light.
You are not taking up too much space here.
You belong.
Somewhere along the way,
We learn to shrink.
To whisper instead of speak.
To cross our arms,
To tuck in our bellies.
To laugh smaller,
To move less,
To apologize for being noticed.
We learn to shrink,
To be liked,
To stay safe,
To be digestible.
And at first,
It worked.
We were praised for being easy.
For not taking up a room.
But over time,
An ache grows.
A quiet hunger to expand.
To speak more freely.
To dance more wildly.
To stretch our limbs without flinching,
To take up space without apology.
And yet the fear remains.
What if I'm too much?
What if I'm too loud,
Too sensual,
Too intense,
Too real?
So we go back to shrinking.
We make ourselves small and call it humility.
We disappear and call it maturity.
But your bigness,
Green One,
Is not the problem.
The world's discomfort with your full blooming is not your responsibility.
Your expansion is holy.
Your presence is a gift.
Your voice,
Your body,
Your essence,
None of it needs to be dimmed.
What if taking up space is not an act of defiance,
But an act of remembering?
Remembering that you were never meant to fit inside of a box.
That your body,
Your sound,
Your energy,
Your growth is allowed to take form,
Take room,
And take root.
You don't need to be less.
You need room to be.
Now inhale deeply.
And as you do,
Imagine your ribcage expanding in every direction,
Side to side,
Front to back,
Up and down.
And let the breath create even more room inside and out.
Now gently stretch your arms out wide.
Picture yourself taking up the entire room,
Edge to edge.
Feel your presence move beyond the borders of your skin.
Where in your body do you feel constriction?
Bring breath there.
Bring softness there.
And say quietly to yourself,
It's safe to take up space.
My shape is sacred.
My roots and limbs and flowers and leaves grow exactly to the places where they need to be.
It's safe to be seen,
To be felt,
To be me.
Your presence is not a burden.
It is a blessing.
You were not made to vanish.
You were made to arrive here.
You can stretch.
You can speak.
You can shine.
And you can do it without apology.
And take one final breath.
And let it remind you of how much space you were born to fill.