When I picture writing about what makes me glow from within, I picture a silhouette in front of a window as the sun rises, sun rays splash the walls of a room and me taking it all in one breath at a time. Ironically, my pre-chaotic transformative moment doesn’t start in the morning as the glow from the waking sun appears. It actually begins right before I close my eyes at night. I once watched a YouTube video that stated what stimulates you (whether it be food or content) the first two hours awake as well as the last two hours before sleeping has a direct correlation to your well-being thereafter. Like, it actually has a psychological and physiological affect on your being. Nothing beats that feeling inside knowing you have an opportunity to be deliberate about your actions and control how you will move forward from one moment to another.
Before bed, it is easy to get caught up in the spiraling doubts, mistakes, and missed opportunities/connections you may have experienced throughout your day (in my case – your life). While lying in bed I tend to go over scenarios in my head suggesting to myself alternate solutions to them even though realistically there is nothing I can do to change it. Anxiety transforms to fear and then evolves to a suffocating sadness. It became an endless cycle every night until I had a self-realization. (I will not get too much into that. That’s a long-winded story that requires lots of time.) I had reached a point in my journey where I felt I had exhausted all my tears to God. But I still felt an overwhelming feeling of wanting to gain control over my experience here. When preparing for bed, I will sage or smudge my body and my bedroom. This is said to rid your space (auric and material) of all negative energy. In my case this includes but not limited to, the energetic blanket in the space, negative thought patterns and any residual energetic shadows obtained throughout my day. For me, creating a clean slate is ideal. Then, from there I can decide what my intention will be. No matter what it is we choose to do with our time, I believe that our intention is the most important. This is a point of reference you can always resort back to and engage with when anything outside of your intention reinserts itself to the front of your mind. My intention is always the same. “to engage with that special consciousness connection right before I think.” To rest in that perfect, pure essence of who I am before the chaos takes over. As I finish smudging, I proceed to lying in bed. While lying in bed, I start to occupy that observer space. I focus in connecting to that still spacious presence, that moment you connect as another object sharing a space - before your sensory receptors take over and your perception deceives you. Creating a distorted view that ultimately gets stored in the subconscious mind. There is an undeniable power to be attained through this act which can be maintained throughout your night’s sleep, into your waking rise and essentially - the rest of your life
Grand Rising! Upon my wakening, I automatically sit in gratitude. I will physically, sometimes mentally, voice my gratitude by inhaling a deep mindful breath and saying. “I am so abundant. I am so grateful.” on my exhale. Seems a bit esoteric, waking up in a theatrical stretch and declaring abundance and gratitude despite. But by doing this I am initiating a high vibrational experience for myself. It feels refreshing to say the words. It feels even more desirable to really believe them to be true. I continue my morning with a morning smudge similar to my night smudging. My focus in my rising is always stepping into myself. Tending to that same space I did prior to my sweet slumber. I center my thoughts on not creating by default moving forward into the next moment. Being just as deliberate as I was the night before. But this moment is intended for me to honor my ancestors. I reserve every rising for them. They are the reason I am here. When I think of glowing from within, I cannot help but picture them all smiling with admiration that I am even here. Grateful and resilient. One of my favorite people once said, “the work you do with your ancestors blows the wind of change.” I will never forget this. I sit with them. I thank them and instantly become the embodiment of their essence. Acknowledging the direct connection to their experience sets a fire inside off - liberation is what I feel. Lifting my body out of bed I move forward with my daily routine. Every step I take after that becomes a conscious awareness to who I am and what it is that I want. A deliberate thinker. I am thinking on purpose, I am speaking on purpose and I am acting on purpose. It becomes Doing vs. Being. Bringing that awareness to everything I do. As I brush my teeth, its on purpose. As I wash my face, I can feel my intention as I complete my skin care routine (that’s a different kind of glow - shout out to Glossier!) It all becomes a dance, a concert in which every action is intentional, and my thoughts become the music meshing into the wholeness in which I am. This space is beautiful. This space is freeing. Being conscious of my vibrational relationship with everything I encounter being all people, all places and all things. My conversations are more fulfilling, hugs are longer now, and my gaze is farther, and I have become a lure for matching energies. I see God in everything and everyone. You must be open to creating this outer expansion of your inner being for yourself first. It is our birthright to allow ourselves the experience that is US. Honoring the not-so-bright aspects of who we are creates a contrast of light. Dare I say, Glow. Honoring my truth but not being confined by it is how I glow from within. Understanding the next moment never arrives and the present moment is all we have brings a sense of urgency to love, compassion, and fulfillment with all that is. all of these things having a "glow-like" warmth when experienced. This glow penetrates other individuals. This glow penetrates objects. It is the true essence of our entity. Warm radiant loving glowing energy.
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Ezomindus
In a valley where silence grew like silver grass, And the mountains seemed to hold their breath, There lived a soul whose name no map could claim—Ezomindus. He was no king of armies, no lord of stone halls, But a traveler of thought, a seeker of questions, A spark that refused to bow to fear or certainty. Ezomindus was born on a night When the moon hung low, swollen with mystery, And the wind whispered secrets through the cracks of the world. The elders, wise yet fearful, said, “This child will wander paths unknown, And his thoughts may burn like fire.” The stars, however, had their own counsel: “This child will wonder, And in his wondering, awaken others.” From his first breath, he listened—not just to people, But to the heartbeat beneath the soil, The rhythm of rivers carving their patient paths, The quiet ache of shadows folding over themselves. He heard the sorrow hidden inside laughter, The longing beneath simple words, The unspoken truths between two people’s eyes. While the villages built houses of brick and pride, Ezomindus built bridges of questions. “Why does the river never hold its shape?” he asked. “Why does the flame dance even as it dies?” “Why does the heart ache for what it cannot name?” His questions were neither rude nor loud; They were gentle arrows of thought, Piercing the illusions of routine and comfort. He wandered through forests older than memory, Where trees leaned close as if to hear him think. Roots twisted like ancient riddles, Leaves shimmered with the dust of forgotten stars. “Everything changes,” the trees whispered, “Even the one who asks.” Ezomindus was not afraid of change. He feared the stillness that numbed the mind. He saw cities wrapped in golden noise, People chasing shadows of approval, Running toward mirrors that reflected only themselves. He whispered to them softly, “Your chains are not iron—they are thoughts You never dared to examine.” Some laughed. Some scowled. Some left. A few felt something stir inside, A small trembling recognition of a mind not yet free. He carried no sword, yet battled storms of doubt. He climbed mountains that seemed to pierce the sky, Where air thinned into honesty, And only the purest thoughts could survive. At the summit, there was no throne, No crown, no prize—only a mirror of ice. In that mirror, he saw himself Not as hero nor as failure, But as a river of becoming. His courage and his fear flowed together, His wounds glimmered like constellations, His mind stretched out like the horizon itself. He understood at last: To conquer the world is smaller than conquering the mind. So he descended, carrying no gold, No trophies, no scrolls of fame, Only awareness. He spoke in marketplaces, empty fields, In the hush of midnight and the blaze of noon. “Do not fear the darkness,” he said. “It is the canvas upon which your light can paint.” As years passed, Ezomindus did not grow old in spirit. His eyes remained young with curiosity, His voice tender with truth. Children gathered around him, Drawn to the way he asked questions Instead of offering answers. “What is strength?” one child asked. He smiled and replied, “Strength is choosing truth Even when lies are easier, Even when the world calls for silence.” “What is freedom?” another asked. He touched the soil, the roots, the wind. “Freedom,” he said softly, “Is seeing your own thoughts Without becoming their prisoner.” “And what is love?” they asked. He paused, feeling the wind trace his weathered face. “Love,” he said, “Is the courage to let another soul breathe, To honor their mind as you honor your own, To walk beside them without claiming their journey.” Ezomindus became a legend, Not of battles won or lands conquered, But of minds awakened. He did not build empires of stone; He built awakenings, Invisible yet eternal, A revolution of thought, quiet yet unstoppable. When his final evening came, The sky blazed in amber farewell, And the valley seemed to lean closer in sorrow. He lay beneath the same moon That had watched his first breath. Around him stood those Who had once been lost in noise, Now awake to the rhythm of their own hearts. “Master,” they whispered, “What remains when you are gone?” Ezomindus looked at them, At their trembling hope, At their eyes opening wide to their own truths. “I remain,” he said, “In every thought you dare to examine, In every fear you face with courage, In every moment you wake instead of drift asleep.” His breath faded like a candle surrendering to dawn, Yet the valley did not grow silent. It hummed with awareness, Alive with the minds he had stirred. Ezomindus was never a body— He was a question set on fire, A space between impulse and reflection, A courage to look within. He was the whisper that said: Do not live asleep. Do not fear the depths of your own mind. For the greatest journey Is not across oceans or stars— It is through the vast, uncharted realm Of your own consciousness. Long after, children would trace his steps in the forest, Listening to the trees, to the rivers, Learning to see the unseen. They carried no scrolls, no crowns, Only the seed of questioning he had planted, A spark that refused to die. And so Ezomindus lives, Not in stone or story, But in every mind that dares to pause, Every heart that dares to reflect, Every soul that refuses to sleep While the world drifts blindly onward. For life is fleeting, And the noise of the world can drown the quiet, But the mind that awakens is eternal. Ezomindus taught this: To live is to be aware, To be aware is to be free, To be free is to walk the endless path Of truth, courage, and love. And somewhere, when the wind bends the silver grass And the moon hangs low like a question, A voice stirs inside the restless heart: “Do not live asleep. Do not fear your own depths. For the greatest journey Is not across oceans or stars— It is through the vast, uncharted Realm of your own mind.” Ezomindus is not gone— He is the question set on fire, The mind that will not sleep, The whisper inside every heart That chooses awareness over comfort, Courage over fear, Truth over illusion. And the valley, ever alive, Breathes on, Shimmering with the light of a mind awake.
By The best writer about 21 hours ago in Motivation
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