11. Well Being Wants Me

Written By Loui Crow
Click To Listen
Loui Crow - Streaming Everywhere

I sit with my reflection.
Some days she's a stranger.
Some days she's a friend.
I show up anyway.
The cork floats when I let it.
I hold it under.
I notice.
I release.
(Wellbeing wants me.)

[VERSE 1]
A small part of me
believes good things
are for other people.
That part of me
holds my own head under.
Sometimes I tense up
when I notice I'm happy.
I look for the catch in the gift.
[pause]
I shift my gaze
from what's not here
to what's arriving.
Lack dissolves
in the new focus.
[pause]
I look in the mirror.
I see a woman
who deserves to feel good.
I practice saying it with her:
[whispered]
"Wellbeing wants me."
(I say it until I believe it.)
[4 second instrumental]

[PRE-CHORUS]
What is coming
rushes toward me.
I stay open.
I feel eager anticipation
for what's already mine.

[CHORUS]
Wellbeing wants me.
I trust the timing.
I am everything I need.
I let the current carry me.
Feeling good is starting to feel
natural to me.
(Wellbeing wants me. I trust the timing.)
[4 second instrumental]

[BRIDGE]
My cells listen
to every thought
I feed them.
They act sick
when I think "sick."
They heal
when I think "heal."
So,
I'll give them good instructions —
because I love them.
I'm just learning
to let the good in.
[whispered]
Let the good in.

[PRE-CHORUS]
What is coming
rushes toward me.
I stay open.
I feel eager anticipation
for what's already mine.

[CHORUS]
Wellbeing wants me.
I trust the timing.
I am everything I need.
I let the current carry me.
Feeling good is starting to feel
natural to me.
(Wellbeing wants me. I trust the timing.)

[OUTRO]
I receive the gift without reaching.
I claim my well-being.
The mirror shows me willing.

Loui Crow

I make music, practice mirror work, sometimes I do somatic rage fits, and small forms of magick that help me stay present and kind while things change.

I write songs for myself, my inner child, and for the woman I am becoming.
I work through old patterns, grief, and survival habits as I notice them loosening.

Sometimes I write as the Crow — that's my ideal self. Direct, unattached, protective, grounded in something older than my fear. Other voices come through too. The snake. The spider. The fly. The ghosts are the false selves I created to survive. I write as all of them, for my own self-hypnosis — unpacking who I've been so that my son can fill his days with joy and I can stop being such a reactive parent. I'm in the middle of it all. I just keep showing up.

I use Suno for vocals and instrumentals — the vocals are seeded from my own voice. I'm a disabled veteran and a stay-at-home mom.

Over the last year, I climbed an emotional ladder I didn't know I was on. Many of my earlier releases were the scream — my depression, anger, insecurity.

The last album that came out of that climb is called "Mirror, Mirror off the Wall." It starts with depression and ends with gratitude.

Much of what lives here carries the influence of Louise Hay and Abraham Hicks, especially the idea that my body listens to my thoughts — and that where I place my attention, my life follows.

I leave breadcrumbs in case anyone resonates.

Take what feeds you.
Leave the rest for the birds.

I am molting.
You are welcome here.

https://louicrow.com
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