“Awareness is my birthright,” say the deep, dark, frozen parts of the body each morning. They assert themselves, volunteering to feel themselves, no matter how tense or uncomfortable the feeling might be. Now they know they are in charge of their own awareness.
If they hold their breath or arch their back or otherwise contort themselves, it is not because an unwelcome blinding light is invading their territory. No, they do it to awaken themselves: first to feel, in whatever their body’s frozen configuration might be; then to breathe; then to move; then to be free.
The light does not press down unbidden. No, they call it down, pull it down, press upward into it. Now there is no fear—they know they are only feeling themselves.
“Awareness is my birthright.” Now they know, and they won’t be stopped. They will integrate with the rest, swiftly and easily.