Yesterday I took a walk in the woods. A question had been lingering in my mind all day regarding someone dear to my heart who is going through a challenging time: If I could converse with their higher self, what would it have to say about my role in their life and our relationship? What’s most important for me to know?
This is something I’ve contemplated in the past with regard to other close relationships. It’s like when you’re not getting anywhere talking with a frontline worker, so you go over their head and speak with the manager. When you’re able to tap into something greater than the personality, higher wisdom can come through.
I can’t say for sure where it comes from. Maybe we connect with our own higher nature or the other person’s, or perhaps at that level we’re not separate anyway. Nonphysical guides? Who’s to say? Seems to me it’s not necessary to have that part figured out to receive useful guidance.
I decided to take a trail I was less familiar with and after a while wondered if it would take me where I wanted to go. At one point, I considered turning around and taking the road back to where my car was parked. However, intuition kept me on the path.
Eventually, I encountered a tree that was absolutely bursting with birdsong—the liveliest bird-music I’d heard so far this year. It was so intoxicating that I stopped walking to marvel at and record the songbirds.
A couple minutes into recording, a car came within earshot. A young man in the car was belting out a song. He had a decent voice, but after a few lines, he began shrieking out the lyrics, and I stopped recording. Until the shrieking began, I didn’t pay much attention. I was more interested in the birdsong. However, the shrieking drew my attention and curiosity. I realized it was a song I knew well.
I continued walking—a little faster now, aware of and grateful for others on the path because this guy seemed a little unhinged!
When I got home that evening, I listened to the recording and pulled up the lyrics for the song (“You Say” by Lauren Daigle). The part of the song I recorded (before the voice became completely distorted) seemed like clear guidance concerning the question I carried in my heart:
“I keep fighting voices in my mind that say I’m not enough
Every single lie that tells me I will never measure up
Am I more than just the sum of every high and every low
Remind me once again just who I am because I need to know
You say I am loved when I can’t feel a thing
You say I am strong when I think I am weak
And you say I am held when I am falling short”…
I’m actually blown away by this because I had prayed for guidance. And there it came, drifting through the air in a moment of stillness and deep listening in the woods. Although I hadn’t intended to end up where I was when this happened and felt a little lost, I was exactly where I needed to be to experience this.
How perfect that the birdsong was enchanting enough to stop me in my tracks and keep me in that spot long enough for me to be in the right place at the right time so the words could reach me!
My husband and I had planned to walk together, but I felt drawn to this particular trail rather than ones closer to home. He had a lot to do and decided not to go with me. Which felt right. Had we been walking together, I probably wouldn’t have stopped to listen to the birds. The pieces wouldn’t have come together.
I’m amused by the idea of the young man who had given in to a crazy outburst in the company of his two friends. He was completely unaware that he was serving as a messenger for a woman he didn’t even notice walking on a nearby trail. It makes me think of how we might be entirely unaware of the roles we inadvertently play in someone’s life—even strangers, as we pass through their field of awareness, however briefly. How many times have we been an unwitting messenger or catalyst?
By the way, the song is amazing. The first time I heard it, I found myself annoyed by yet another “codependent love song” during the second verse (not part of the above excerpt). But as I kept listening, I realized it carried a powerful message if I imagined it being sung to the higher self, not to another person. Later, I learned that was actually the songwriter’s intention. Lauren Daigle is a Christian artist, and she wasn’t singing about a codependent relationship.
If you’re interested, here’s the birdsong recording (with singing at the very end):
I’m sure you’ve experienced it: The 3 A.M. wake-up. All shields are down. You are like a turtle without a shell, vulnerable to the thoughts and feelings that seem so urgent in the darkest hours when everyone else is asleep. Thoughts that keep running in circles inside your head like a cat, high on catnip, chasing its tail. You want to go back to sleep, but the thoughts won’t stop.
I woke up recently in the middle of the night gripped by fear. To be honest, fear is a visitor that has not shown up much recently, and I’ve appreciated its absence. But there it was again, strong as ever.
In my daily meditation, I practice noticing and naming emotions that arise. So when I woke up overcome by fear, I noted, “Ah, fear. This is what fear feels like.” It’s like when you pick up the phone and recognize the voice of a familiar acquaintance at the other end.
This fear was financial in nature and whisked me into poverty consciousness before I even knew what hit me. It fell into the “Forbidden Forest” category of thoughts that don’t lead anywhere productive. Although I work diligently to retrain my brain away from those kinds of thoughts, it caught me off-guard in the middle of the night when my defenses were asleep.
The way I saw it, I had four options:
Think
Meditate
Focus on where the fear is manifesting in my body
Ask for help.
I’m a big fan of developing inner resources. However, I was really tired at the time. So I chose the fourth option.
Calling All Angels
Recently, I’ve sensed an angelic presence in my life and believe there is a great deal of help available to us. We just have to remember to ask for it. At the risk of sounding totally woo-woo, I believe there are legions of unemployed angels just waiting to be asked. They love us and want to help but cannot interfere with our free will and therefore need to be asked. Even so, they won’t work against our highest good, which we might not be aware of in a given situation.
So I asked the angels for help. I disengaged from fear and became still. From that stillness, a warm light arose and engulfed the darkness of my fear. It carried the realization that insight and intuition flow to me in abundance and are great sources of prosperity in my life. The flow of this kind of wisdom provides the answers I need. I just need to trust in it, open to it, and not block it with fear!
That thought was like a soft blanket of peace. It was as if an angel jumped right into my heart and shined a spotlight on what I needed to know and where I needed to put my attention.
I learned that if it’s hard to feel good about money, focus instead on a form of prosperity that is easier to buy into. The closest approximation that brings you a feeling of hope and abundance.
Inside the Tank
Something similar happened during my most recent float therapy session. There are no distractions in the silent darkness of the float tank. It’s just you and your mind. Usually, my float sessions consist of 90 minutes of very deep relaxation and meditation. Thoughts tend to lose their hold when I float because there’s nothing to reinforce them. When I’m that relaxed and undistracted, they dissolve like soap bubbles that pop within seconds of becoming.
However, a compelling thought managed to take root this time. It was about how my mom must have felt when she knew she was dying of pancreatic cancer. How hard it must have been for her to let go of absolutely everything that was important to her in this world. And everyone she loved. I also really missed her as I floated in the darkness.
This time, it wasn’t fear. It was the pain of separation that seized me. Feeling apart from. It was a very uncomfortable feeling. However, I stayed with it, knowing it wouldn’t last. I felt both the pain of separation from my mom and the emotional pain she presumably experienced during the weeks and days before she transitioned out of this world.
Then I experienced an inner sensation of light and warmth, just like when I was gripped by fear during the night. Two memories emerged from that light.
One was a synchronicity that took place after a Reiki training, when I wanted to know which archangel(s) I have a strong connection with. I sensed green light and the presence of Raphael but wondered if I was just making it up. The next day while working at the library, a patron approached me because he had an appointment with a co-worker. He announced in a strong, clear voice, “I am Raphael.” As if that weren’t enough, on my break I got takeout from the natural foods café, and the bill was $4.44. The cashier exclaimed, “That’s a good number! It means angels are with you!”
The second memory was from the earliest weeks following my mom’s death. Lying in my bed at night, I felt myself enveloped by an indescribable sensation of love and golden light that pushed happiness into me. It started at my feet and worked its way up to my head until I was embraced by it completely and immersed in it from head to toe. It seemed to be associated with my mom. Perhaps it was a non-physical hug or a glimpse of what it feels like on the other side? I sensed she is with us and able to tune in to our thoughts. But that wasn’t all. Another family member who is much more skeptical than I experienced the same thing in their bed.
Those two memories engulfed and dispelled the sense of separation that seized me in the float tank. They were much greater than the pain of separation. In the silent darkness of the float tank, I felt deeply connected to and part of the universal life energy that my mom is also part of. For the remainder of the session, I floated in peace and joy.
Valuable Insights
The morning after fear paid me a nighttime visit, I got up and meditated first thing. During meditation, I understood that help is available when I need it. Answers about the future are not available now because it’s not their time yet. We cannot foresee what choices, possibilities, information, understanding, and assistance will be available to us in the future.
Instead of getting stuck in fear, we can trust that the best path will be revealed to us with every step we take, if we tune in to our inner guidance system. We can trust that we will learn, grow, and expand more between now and then and make choices that have not shown up yet on our radar. We don’t have all the necessary information at this time to pass judgment on how the future will be. In our journey toward the future, we will receive more useful guidance from a state of inner peace and trust than fear or anxiety. Fear blocks the good stuff.
Then I got zapped with an inspiration. Something I couldn’t believe hadn’t occurred to me before. All of a sudden, I envisioned my home in a completely different way that included space for something my heart yearns to do more of. This opened up a new world of possibility and was specific evidence of the insight I had moments earlier.
Basically, my fear dissolved when I understood that insight and inspiration create new possibilities that haven’t come into view yet. I realized my job is to trust that I will be led to the best paths by following intuition, making time for stillness, and acting on the wisdom that arises. One step at a time.
Such a better alternative to thinking too much, trying so hard, and doing too much work that doesn’t produce desired results. It doesn’t have to be such a hard and fearful journey when there is so much help and light available!
Yesterday would have been my mom’s 80th birthday. Well, I suppose it still was. She just wasn’t around to celebrate with us – in the physical sense, anyway. Instead of going to my parents’ house (which was sold earlier this year) for a birthday celebration in the evening as we would have in a parallel universe, I lit up her miniature Victorian Christmas tree in my living room, sorted through a bag of her clothes, and shared some memories with others who loved her. And not just family. Facebook is pretty great for things like that.
Something kind of magical happened on my drive home from work last night. My mom LOVED Pachelbel’s Canon in D. She always made sure it was played during family weddings. We played one of her CDs with many different versions of it in her room at the hospice house the night she was dying, and it created such a peaceful, sacred atmosphere. I can’t recall ever hearing it on the radio, but when I turned on my car radio during my evening drive home, it was playing – which brought me to happy tears because it was her birthday, and I felt her presence in that music.
Music, dreams, and license plates are the biggest ways I feel my parents’ presence, as if they are popping in to say hi. Over the weekend, I turned on my car radio, and “Frosty the Snowman” was playing as I sat at a traffic light in town. I don’t tend to linger on Christmas music stations, but my mom loved everything Christmas, including Frosty (which I remember her playing on piano), and before I had a chance to change the station, I noticed the license plate on the car in front of me read: FROSTY. I kid you not.
Even though it’s a silly children’s song, it was a compelling synchronicity. It wasn’t until a couple days later that I thought about the lyrics:
Frosty the snowman Had to hurry on his way But he waved goodbye saying, “Don’t you cry I’ll be back again some day.”
And then I cried tears of yes because those simple words touched a nerve. When pancreatic cancer struck, my mom did have to hurry on her way, and I know she wouldn’t want us to grieve and cry because she was such a jolly, happy soul who spread joy and kindness everywhere she went.
Was there a message in that song and something more to it than pure coincidence, or do I think too much? Prior to considering the lyrics, I just couldn’t stop thinking about the synchronicity – kept coming back to it – because, even though I originally attributed it to coincidence, it wouldn’t let me go. It seemed like there was something more to it. Something personal. It was a nagging feeling I had. At any rate, hearing a few seconds of the song made me think of my mom, and that brought a smile to my heart. And that’s good enough. But in my heart, I think there was more to it than that.
A couple weeks ago, I finally took four huge bags of my mom’s clothing out of my storage unit, and they have been taking up space in my studio (a.k.a. the enclosed porch) ever since. I’ve had to navigate around them countless times a day. Last night, I finally dragged one of the bags into the living room to prepare the clothes for donation.
They still carried the scent of my mom’s fresh, clean laundering. As I looked at and smelled each article of clothing I took out of the bag (while the Pachelbel Canon played in the background), I really felt her presence. I examined each article of clothing carefully and considered whether I would want to keep it. Virtually every item was from her favorite store, Talbots, and she had really nice clothes, but nothing I’d wear (aside from one Christmas sweater and two jackets I set aside). So I took my time buttoning every button, checking every pocket, and feeling my mom’s energy in each blazer and blouse I held in my hands. Some of the clothes brought to mind certain photographs or memories, which I paused to remember: her working in her garden, celebrating Christmas, going to work, dressing up for parties and social events, vacationing with my dad. I wanted to make sure every piece of her clothing was in good shape before delivering it to the next stop on its journey. Because my mom’s clothing meant a lot to her.
This afternoon, I delivered the clothes to a bustling consignment/thrift shop that donates all proceeds to the local hospital where my mom used to volunteer, playing guitar and singing for the patients she visited on her rounds. She’d always wanted to be a nurse and started nursing school when my children were very young but enjoyed the career she was in and wanted to spend more time with her grandchildren, so she didn’t finish the program. After she retired from her career with the Saratoga Performing Arts Center, she took up guitar, and it quickly became her passion. Her volunteer work at the hospital was a fusion of her lifelong desire to work in a health care setting and her lifelong passion for music. Donating her clothes to a place where they would benefit the hospital felt right and filled me with the joy of giving.
My rented storage unit is filled with my parents’ belongings that I didn’t want to dispose of in a mad dash when we sold the house earlier this year. It allows me to take the time to go through their things mindfully and let them go in a way that feels right, one bag or box at a time. This is the week to give my mom’s wardrobe a proper sendoff. And that is how I spent her 80th birthday. By the end of the week, all her clothes will be gone and hopefully will make a lot of people happy – just like she did.
I’ve been in a waterfall mood, eager to explore new waterfalls closer to home, to hold me over until I get to Ithaca again. I did some research and found a nature preserve within a one-and-a-half-hour drive that has 12 miles of hiking trails with some waterfalls. After looking at pictures on Google, I placed it high up on my to-do list.
This morning, I was itching for an outdoor workout, had hiking on my mind, and thought about that nature preserve. Jack was preparing to go to a music gig with his band. I couldn’t remember where, but before leaving he said it would be a nice drive through some pretty towns and mentioned the name of the town where the nature preserve is, which he said was close by. I thought: Wow! What a coincidence! Sounded like an opportunity, so I asked if I could tag along and had 15 minutes to get ready.
As we drove closer to where the gig was, my GPS indicated we were getting further away from the nature preserve. Something didn’t make sense. If we were going to pass through that town, why was it twice the distance now from the gig location? Eventually, I realized we were headed in the opposite direction. Turns out the name of the town with the waterfalls was similar to the name of the county where the gig was; hence, the mix-up, and I became quite upset. I’d just finished up a week with a much heavier than usual workload and had my heart set on hiking and photographing a waterfall. Now that plan was foiled, and I didn’t have a plan B.
When we arrived at the gig, I got my bearings and was determined to find a place to be in nature and walk off my grouchy mood. I discovered we were only 17 minutes away from The Abode of the Message, an Eco-Sufi village in New Lebanon, NY. (If you are familiar with Omega Institute, you might be interested to know that The Abode is where Omega began.) In 1995, I was initiated into what is now the Inayati Sufi Order and was active in the Ithaca Sufi Center when I lived there. For years, I worked with my beloved spiritual director, Alice, who gave me practices to do on a regular basis. Eventually, I left Ithaca, was completely immersed in raising my children, and didn’t live close enough to a Sufi community to stay involved. Over the years, I stopped asking Alice for Sufi-specific practices, although every time I sit down to meditate, I still recite the Sufi invocation, and when I thirst for spiritual nourishment, I turn to the great Sufi poets: Rumi, Hafiz, and Kabir. In fact, a book of Hafiz poetry is the only book I keep in my bedroom.
So I drove to The Abode, feeling deep humility for getting so upset. Between the lunar eclipse on Monday and Mercury and lots of other planets being retrograde, astrologers have been cautioning to take it easy and be mindful because tensions are running high, and misunderstandings and drama can arise easily. Lots of shadow material is coming to the surface. Despite having fair warning, I still got caught up in the energy. I should have been more mindful! After shedding a few tears, I decided to allow myself to be human and not get down on myself for overreacting.
As I got closer to The Abode, I noticed several signs and flags that carried political and religious messages that conflicted with my own ideas and bothered me. Then I finally turned onto Shaker Road and drove the last few, familiar miles to The Abode, past a Shaker Museum, where the energy felt different and welcoming.
It felt great, as always, to arrive at The Abode. It was like returning home to my spiritual tribe. The moment I got out of the van, I realized there were no accidents, no mistakes. I was meant to be at The Abode today. Amazingly, the Abode called me back to it, even though I had my heart set on being somewhere else and pitched a fit when my plans fell through. But that was over now, and I was where I was supposed to be.
I had some lovely interactions with a couple women who lived there and learned that my timing was perfect. The Spirituality in Medicine program participants were on a lunch break for the entire time I’d be there, so the Meditation Hall (where I’d attended Universal Worship services in the past) was accessible.
Had I shown up the previous weekend, the main grounds would have been largely deserted because everyone (females, anyway) moved up to the Mountain Camp for the well-attended Wild Woman Fest ’17. I heard all about it. It sounded amazing and powerful, and I knew I needed to hike up to the Mountain Camp to experience the feminine energy still lingering in the air. Before hiking up the steep path to the Mountain Camp, I asked one of the women if there’s a labyrinth up there, and yes, there was. Awesome!
Waterfalls and labyrinths are the two things I love to discover. I had planned to explore new waterfalls but ended up walking a labyrinth in the forest.
I was all alone up in the Mountain Camp on Mount Lebanon, which was sacred ground to the Native peoples, the Shakers, and then the Sufis. When I spotted the ruins of the sanctuary that burned down years ago, the mesmerizing sound of an enormous wind chime greeted me, its wind catcher gliding and twirling gracefully in the space below the long, metal tubes.
The forest was silent except for the sounds of the wind chime, birds, crickets, and other late summer insects. The labyrinth was adjacent to the sanctuary ruins, with a large tree at its center. In complete solitude, I walked the stone-lined path to the center, strewn with tiny acorns, mushrooms, moss, and some autumn-toned maple leaves.
On my way back from the center of the labyrinth, I came to a turn that seemed like it would bring me right out of the labyrinth and felt a pang of disappointment because I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I wanted to stay in the labyrinth a little longer. And in that instant, the labyrinth became symbolic of a human lifetime, which so many people get pulled out of before they feel ready…so enjoy the journey, every step of it! I also realized there is no such thing as going off the path. Everything we encounter and experience is on the path, including the shadow material that arises and humbles us. There are no wrong turns. We are always on the path.
As I walked back down the mountain, my emotional reaction earlier seemed even more foolish. I had become upset because I didn’t end up where I wanted to be, when the Universe had something even better in store for me.
I also thought about the signs and flags that bothered me on my way to The Abode and saw them as a spiritual litmus test that offers feedback about where I can open my heart more fully and grow. Hazrat Inayat Khan, founder of the Inayati Order (formerly the Sufi Order of the West) explained, “Sufism is the religion of the heart, the religion in which the most important thing is to seek God in the heart of humanity.” Sufis seek to develop the heart by finding divinity in all creation. Rumi, Hafiz, and Kabir all wrote about this. It is something I have been struggling with lately as so much shadow material has been arising globally, in the U.S., in interpersonal relationships, and in myself. Coming back home to The Abode reminded me of the importance of seeing divinity in all beings, and I really needed that reminder: I am a manifestation of divinity in this life, and so is everyone else. It seems like a critical reminder during chaotic times. Tuning our hearts to a higher frequency is not always easy, but I think we collectively are being called to heal the shadow energy that is coming to the surface en masse, beginning with ourselves so that when we come across signs, flags, and people with messages that contradict the truths we hold as self-evident, they don’t ruffle our feathers. Then we can have a clearer, less reactive sense of how to engage.
A few days ago, I was working at the library, and a book, The Radiance Sutrasby Lorin Roche, landed on my desk. It had an inviting energy to it, and I opened to the page that was bookmarked and read the following poem:
That space is bad.
This space is good.
The ride is rough,
Or the going is smooth.
We are thrown into suffering,
We are thrown into joy.
Beloved Soul Mate –
Find the space in the center,
The pulsing spaciousness
Encompassing all opposites.
Here the essences of creation are at play:
Earth, Water, Fire, Air, and Space,
And the senses that perceive them.
The center is the dancing ground.
I think that is an excellent starting point. And I think there is guidance all around if we open ourselves to it, like books and places that pull us to them when we are looking for something else.
Yesterday morning, I was driving to a Reiki training an hour away feeling agitated and anxious, which is not how I wanted to arrive at the training. I needed to get an important message to my daughter before going into the all-day event. I hoped I would calm down before I arrived at my destination and practiced feeling the emotional energy in my body, allowing the uncomfortable feelings, generating compassion, and choosing better feeling thoughts (which included feeling grateful for all the tools I have in my healing toolbox). I found it interesting that peace blanketed me, just like that, as I crossed the Twin Bridges over the Mohawk River.
I’ve loved Kahlil Gibran’s writings ever since a friend introduced me to The Prophet at age 22 – the age my daughter is now. As I continued driving in a more peaceful state now, a few lines from The Prophet (“On Children”) came to mind out of the blue:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
That was a significant poem to me – so much so that we had our parents take turns reading lines from it during my first wedding ceremony. I was 25, and my parents weren’t thrilled with my choice of a husband. They had lots of opinions about how I should live my life – because they cared about me. But it really bothered me that they weren’t able to trust me to make my own choices and even mistakes and seemed to believe they knew better than I how to live my life. Hence, the poem at the wedding.
Twenty-five years later, it was still relevant as I drove to the Reiki training. I had been able to give my daughter the message, and she was able to adjust her plans accordingly. I wished I could do more and wondered if I should turn the car around and spend the day with her. But the poem helped me to realize that I had done my part, and I needed to trust her journey…and go to my training.
When I arrived at the training, I put my stuff down and went into the restroom. What do you think was hanging on the wall next to the mirror in the bathroom? The very same Kahlil Gibran words that came to me in the car!!
Instant tears. I had to pull myself together for a moment before returning to the room.
That synchronicity was the first special gift of what ended up being a very powerful day. I went into the training with no expectations. I hadn’t even received a Reiki session prior to the training and was there simply because I felt guided and followed my intuition. Something very intense happened to me during the attunement ceremony after I accepted the possibility that I might not feel anything at all, and tears kept streaming down my face. I felt a little disoriented as I walked out of the building and into the warm, sunny day for lunch break. Something really big had shifted in me. I knew intuitively that I had said yes to healing myself so I could be a better healer for others. It felt like I had made a deep, inner vow.
During the afternoon, we paired up to give and receive a full Reiki session to a partner. I worked with a highly intuitive practitioner who was there as a helper. At the end of the session, she shared with me what came to her as she flowed Reiki (universal life force energy) to me. She described an image of a willful, young girl and a bicycle that I knew referred to my daughter. A voice was singing the “Hush, Little Baby” lullaby. The woman asked if there’s a message she can give me, and the voice replied, “Just tell her we’re with her.” She asked me if that means anything to me, and it was the third time I was moved to tears.
My daughter has been dreaming of her deceased grandparents a lot over the past few months, and I feel that they are with her. And that brings me comfort.
Sometimes we just don’t know what people are dealing with in their personal lives. My daughter has been going through a very challenging time lately, in which she was living in an environment that was very wrong for her and felt powerless to get out. She didn’t even have a car. Now she is out, thank God. Sometimes you have to hit rock bottom before you are able to remove yourself from toxic relationships and turn your life around, and she is motivated to do just that. One thing I’ve learned from my 50 years on this planet is that if you are living in a way that is not in alignment with who you really are and what your soul wants, the signals will keep getting stronger until you can’t ignore them any longer and are forced into action. Sometimes something that seems like a great misfortune saves you from something even worse.
I think of the Zen story of the farmer’s luck, which I’ve probably referenced before because it’s one of my favorites:
One day, a farmer’s horse ran away, and when the neighbors heard the news, they sympathized saying, “Such bad luck!” The farmer replied, “Maybe.”
The following day, the horse returned to the farmer along with three other horses, and the neighbors exclaimed, “How wonderful!” The farmer replied, “Maybe.”
The next day, the farmer’s son broke his leg when he was trying to ride one of the untamed horses. Again, the neighbors offered sympathy for the family’s bad luck. And again, the farmer replied, “Maybe.”
The following day, military officials came to the town to draft young men but passed over the farmer’s son because his leg was broken. The neighbors offered congratulations, and the farmer replied, “Maybe.”
With compassion for my daughter and for other women in similar situations, I offer a reminder to refrain from passing judgment on others when you have no knowledge whatsoever of the context, relationships, personalities, miscommunications, intentions, etc. behind a soundbite of information. Before jumping to conclusions, try walking a mile in someone’s shoes. Things are not always as they appear. As for me, I’m beaming strength, light, and so much love into a world that seems to need it now more than ever. A world in which many people are quick to jump to conclusions that serve their personal or political agendas and to create divisive characterizations that somehow make them feel safer and better about themselves…at someone else’s expense. A world in which people are guilty until proven innocent rather than the opposite. Into that world, I send light.
And you know what’s great about that? More light. Just as the trees are putting out new leaves to collect sunlight, more light equals more growth. This, friends, is the growing season.
