I grew up being taught that evil is something really bad. The worst, in fact. To be evil was the worst possible thing a person could be. It meant they had no conscience, hurt people indiscriminately, were totally selfish, and when they died they’d end up in hell for eternity. Pretty heavy stuff.
A few years ago I worked regularly with a spiritual hypnotherapist who helped me get in touch with my inner world to facilitate walking me through this Kundalini awakening. When I was in the middle of the difficult task of separating from my older brother so we’d no longer share legal obligations, I had been really weak and tired and had a chronically foggy and fuzzy head for too long. (Just to be sure it was part of my awakening process and not an illness, I checked in with my doctor and there was nothing physically wrong). With my patience for my ever procrastinating brother gone, I wanted to see if I could shift my energy from the inside out. I needed to function and feel better.
During the healing session, when I looked into the feelings of exhaustion and fogginess, a young voice spoke up. About four years old, she was very scared and overwhelmed by life. She saw a spinning tornado of wonky energy and was scared saying, “Help me. I can’t do this alone.” She kept saying life was too hard and she wanted to go back to the other side where things were easier. She wished she hadn’t incarnated. She felt quite alone and overwhelmed.
Pretty soon another voice came through. One that sounded demonic. It kept telling the little girl that life is supposed to be hard. It felt menacing and evil. It felt like it was pushing the little girl. My hypnotherapist had me contain the voice using a screen, like a movie screen, to put some distance between us.
Once the voice was contained within the screen, higher wisdom began to flow through me.
“That demonic voice is the voice of crazy, and its purpose is so I won’t trust myself. Its purpose is to fuck me up in the head – and it’s laughing and saying it’s been doing a really good job. It’s just laughing and laughing because it knows as long as we don’t trust ourselves, we’re miserable… and spinning, chasing our tails. Lack of trust is evil.”
When we talk about evil, that’s the core of it. It’s not trusting ourselves… not being connected to our core essence. And all of the stuff that comes out of that is what we call evil.
Once all that came out, all that was left was helping the four-year-old in me trust herself again, but how? I learned a few years before this, during another healing session, that it’s not my job to know how to do things like this. They happen by magic, and that’s where my spirit team comes in. That day, Archangel Michael made an appearance and created magic.
Once my inner child was happy and reconnected with me, my hypnotherapist asked a few more questions about feeling so tired and foggy-headed, and my higher self let me know I was past the worst of things, and I’m going through a finite process that won’t last forever.
Yes, I’m still not myself yet, but very gradually making my way there. And in the meanwhile, having spiritual perspectives not only come to me but embodying them changes the way I see the world.
Knowing that when someone appears evil, the truth is they’ve lost their sense of core trust in themselves as loving beings, I find it easier to handle atrocities in the world. It doesn’t mean I like them or condone them in the least. And I have zero interest in getting close to someone like that. But evil doesn’t stop me in my tracks. The inside of an evil person is a young child who is absolutely terrified and completely disempowered.
Almost a decade and a half ago, during a hypnosis session geared at helping me gain control over my weight, I had a metaphysical experience where an angel enveloped me and healed me of shame. It was incredibly transformational, relieving me of a burden I wasn’t even aware of. In the years to follow, I’d have an inner awakening where the calling to learn about energy healing exploded out of me.
A few years into this spiritual awakening, having previously discovered the transformational power of hypnotherapy, when I met a woman whose practice combined her years of experience as a therapist with hypnosis techniques and elements of spirituality, I had to give it a try. Little did I know, but the four years we worked together would transform me in ways I wouldn’t believe possible.
As I continued to address stress and frustrations that drove me to eat when I wasn’t hungry, there were also sessions on things like body image, self-empowerment, and personal boundaries. It didn’t take very many sessions to create profound inner change.
These days I don’t feel ashamed of myself and when things go wrong, there’s no immediate inner impulse to blame myself. Because these emotional triggers have been healed, I don’t feel these feelings about other folks either. However, before discovering healing work, I lived with a heavy mantle of shame and blamed myself for bad things that happened in my life.
When I dug into all sorts of discomfort in hypnotherapy sessions, I discovered that roots of present-day frustration, anger, boredom, judgment, and more went back to having been mistreated by a few family members. One of the reasons I’ve had body image issues since puberty was having a mother who was always dissatisfied with her body. She was always on a diet, and as soon as puberty hit and I started to get curvy and put on some weight I labeled myself as fat and jumped on the diet bandwagon too. Having two brothers who were were all skin and bones, I stuck out like a sore thumb. What makes me sad is seeing pictures of myself when I was a preteen and a teenager I was never heavy.
Not only did I deem myself too fat, but when I became pregnant as a result of my brother constantly molesting me, my fourteen-year-old body hadn’t even finished developing. When I was hidden shamefully away to spend the last few months of my pregnancy behind a wall – a home for unwed mothers surrounded by a tall brick wall – I remember the other girls saying I didn’t even look pregnant when I arrived. But during my last 4-6 weeks of pregnancy, my belly finally swelled greatly as the baby grew and her feet pushed up into my ribs. Not only did my belly swell, but I developed wide stretch marks on my sides as my skin tried to keep up with the growth.
After I gave birth to my daughter and gave her up for adoption, I lost weight and went on with my life, keeping the shameful secret I was forbidden to ever discuss, except to the psychiatrist I was sent to after my daughter was born. The months of therapy were supposed to straighten me out I guess. What I wouldn’t remember until I was 56 years old was part of the reason I blamed myself for being molested was because the psychiatrist treated me with the assumption I had been complicit in the sex. I was absolutely not. The other part of why I blamed myself for having been molested was as much as I tried, I couldn’t stop it. My brain reasoned that if I couldn’t stop it, then it must have been my fault.
Going through my teenage years with massive stretch marks on my sides meant I couldn’t wear a two-piece bathing suit. And a belly that had been so overstretched never again laid flat enough for me to feel comfortable in some clothing I would have liked to wear. My once perky breasts sagged and were never pretty like all the models I saw in magazines. I was very self-conscious about my body. And especially self-conscious about the stretch marks until I was grown and had my son.
Publically having a baby later in life gave me license to have stretch marks and saggy breasts. But doing all the healing work took away all sorts of shame and disdain for myself. Which is why I was so surprised in a recent massage to have issues of body image bubble up and become healed yet again.
With Kundalini energy quite active in my body, it’s made me unusually sensitive and shifts to my consciousness – healing things deep inside – have been happening somewhat spontaneously during massages.
When my massage therapist works on muscles on my torso by placing her hands on my side and gently pulling across my body, I usually don’t think twice and merely relax into the pulling and stretching. But for some reason, I became unusually aware of the stretch marks and kept thinking about them as she put her hands right on them, repeating the massage technique several times.
With my focus drawn to this area of my body, I suddenly became a bit emotional as memories of feeling so self-conscious came back to me. Allowing a few tears to run down my face, I told my practitioner about how for so many years I’d felt so much shame because of the stretch marks, and carried so much blame for having been molested and impregnated. As I talked about it, more emotions and tears came to the surface along with two words that played over and over: shame and blame. Shame and blame. Whatever had been holding these feelings hostage in my torso finally let go as they surfaced like a balloon that had been held underwater for years.
Shame and blame I hadn’t known were still with me shifted and released with a bubble of emotion, and after I settle down, I relaxed back into the rest of the massage.
Reflecting upon what came up to be healed, because I’ve felt so secure and confident in my body image for a few years, I can only conclude that I’ve been resonating with someone beyond myself, and very likely with the collective. After all, what’s the number one New Year’s resolution? To lose weight and get in shape. So it’s no surprise that with such a high collective vibe around poor body image, something along these lines would come up again for yet deeper healing.
Vibrating at a level of Oneness means I’m healing at a collective level these days. Things I healed and were a thing of the past are still healed at the individual level, but they’re fair game to be healed anew. And as each issue rises up and becomes healed I’m changed once again.
I’m still getting used to winter in the Pacific Northwest, having grown up in the Northeast. While there are similarities between the coasts, there are also major differences. Here in the PNW, the winters are generally wet, cloudy, and dark with a little bit of snow. As a kid, I lived to play on snowy days, being outside for hours as we sledded, built snow forts, and skied. I loved it when the snow was so dry and fluffy it squeaked when I walked on it. And I still remember the excitement when local ponds froze over so we could go skating. Although we have several lakes and ponds around us now, we don’t get cold temps long enough for them to freeze over for skating.
As much as I’ve been adapting to milder winters, I love it when after weeks of dark and wet the temperatures drop and the air becomes crisp and dry. With blue skies and sunshine during the day and stars twinkling with moonlight at night. When there is frost on windows and the frozen ground crunches underfoot. And hunkering down by a wood stove fire. There’s something magical when the flakes fall and everything is blanketed with white.
We look out on a small nearby mountain whose low peak is often shrouded by clouds this time of year. With mild temperatures, staying above freezing much of the time, winters stay quite wet. The green of our lawn never turns brown, and trees naked without leaves show off moss and lichen that live symbiotically with them. When we do get snow, it’s usually followed by thick clouds and rising temps turning it to slush and melting it all away. It’s not dry, powdery snow you get in colder climates, but once in a while, we’re treated to a cold snap.
This past Christmas, snow began falling on Christmas Eve and didn’t let up for about 48 hours. Then we were treated to clear blue skies as the thermometer plunged into the teens and then single digits Fahrenheit. It was crisp!!
And then it snowed some more! All in all I think we had around 18″ within a week before frigid temperatures inched back up to the twenties and thirties for the first week of 2022. Now we’re back to daytime temperatures in the forties with clouds and drizzle, and the snow has finally melted. Back to the oh, so familiar dark and wet. Perfect conditions for mushrooms and moss, and being inside sipping tea.
I came to this world to do big things. But for years I never knew it. It wasn’t until my life began to take a walk on the wild/spiritual side that an inkling of my true life’s purpose began to emerge. And truth be told, I’m still figuring it out. Just when it seems like I’m in reach of “what I’m going to do” something big in my life changes and I’m off on another track. One day things will come together.
In the quiet of today, I’m thinking about Mom. The woman from whose loins I was birthed. And in whose house I grew, played, and first learned about life.
I’m tickled to notice one of my favorite mugs for tea is the same color as the mugs Mom so often drank her morning Sanka in. The sound of my spoon stirring echoing the sound I heard morning after morning. Her love of music became infused into me before I was even born as she played her violin, performing in concerts and rehearsing the very afternoon I was born. I even made the paper, sort of, with an article titled, “Violinist Drops Bow for Bassinet.” By the time I was three she took me to music classes for toddlers. Even though I haven’t played my violin since my early twenties, music will always flow through my veins.
Mom liked to get together and play music, and she also liked her quiet time. Time to sit and read and take a break from three kids. A child of the depression, having a garden was a must. Growing vegetables. Always vegetables. I prefer to grow fruit. Plant a blueberry bush and an apple tree and call it good. Truth be told, I’ve grown veggies and berries but my yard isn’t garden-friendly. And I’m not a fan of weeding.
We both love flowers in pots. Annuals for Mom. Annuals and a few perennials for me. Although my perennials bloom, they’re actually herbs. Lavender, rosemary, sage, peppermint, and oregano. I’ll never forget the peppermint patch we had behind the garage at our first house. It was big. And when I mowed and cut the edge of mint, it smelled like heaven.
Mom always had her charity work. She volunteered and gave to her community her whole adult life. And still, in her death part of her estate gives to charity in her name and will for decades to come. I too support causes.
It wasn’t until after I experienced a spiritual awakening that life purpose began to shift for me. I’d honestly never really thought about what my life purpose is. Born in the mid-sixties, I was raised to be a good wife and mother, and as such was trained in the domestic arts. That was my purpose for years. Yet because I was born in an era of big social upheaval when women’s roles underwent an overhaul, having not only a job, but a career became a possibility for me on top of being a good wife and mother. Yet, when I became a mother, my career at sea ended. And it was a choice I haven’t regretted.
As much as my focus has always been my family first, energy healing crept into my life and exploded when I experienced an unexpected spiritual awakening. My life took a metaphysical turn and has never looked back. That’s one bell you can’t un-ring.
Shortly after my father died and my mother’s mental health spiraled out of control, when she was in the hospital, I’d been listening to a weekly radio show of psychic Sara Wiseman. She always took callers and one day I decided to ask her why my mother was sometimes abusive toward me. She saw that the abuse wasn’t personal. It wasn’t entirely intentional. And the next time I sat and meditated, I should look back at my mother’s childhood because something happened.
I was quite new to meditation and was trying to develop a practice. Setting a timer for twenty minutes, I closed my eyes, sat up straight, and relaxed my body and mind as much as possible while focusing on a mantra. About five minutes in I suddenly remembered what Sara told me. Not knowing how to look at my mother’s childhood, I decided to imagine I was her at around four years old. Settling on that image, a scene suddenly came to me. I saw my mother’s mother get extremely upset with her and went off on her exactly the same way my mother sometimes went off on me. Holy shit!! Her mom did to her what she did to me! A moment later I saw my grandmother receiving the same treatment from her mother, and my great-grandmother receiving the same treatment from her mother. And it went back several generations.
It was a chain linking the generations. Holy shit! Once I saw it all, I focused on my heart and asked every metaphysical being I could think of to come in and heal it. Jesus, Archangel Raphael, and God. I sat there until I was suddenly overcome with emotion and cried as it all released. The chain was broken. It stopped with me. It was more than broken, it was entirely dissolved all the way back through the generations.
The next time I spoke with my mother, she was still in the hospital and still quite manic, primed to attack me, and I purposely pushed her buttons. Waiting for her to rail on me there was silence. Nothing. No attack. Just quiet. Holy shit!
She never attacked me ever again. The pattern of mother-daughter wounding that had been passed down through generations in my family was healed.
A few years later in a hypnotic healing session, working toward the nugget of what needed to be healed, I suddenly saw another energetic chain in my family. This time it was my father’s side. Something that had affected his and my relationship when I was very young was tied to his relationship with his father and his father’s father, on back several generations. The moment I realized I was healing another energetic pattern passed down through my family for generations, the first thought that passed through me was, “Shit! Not another one. How many of these are there and how many do I have to heal?” Which was immediately followed by amazement to not only see what triggered prostate cancer in the men in my family but to heal it. To set us all free.
I inherited some great things from my parents, like a keen mind and a love of music, reading, and writing, while quite unknowingly planning to have my life take a massive spiritual turn around the time some people have a midlife crisis. Who knew I’d grow up to help heal family karma? Energetic patterns carried down for generations have stopped with me. I’ve never heard anyone put that on a resume or in their five-year plan.
What’s funny is I never thought I’d do big things. It just wasn’t on my radar. Yet I seem to be able to heal things. To transmute them. And over the years it’s become easier to do as I’ve changed.
After the energy between my dad and I shifted and let go, I saw it dissolve between Dad and my grandfather and his father and so on. As the entire chain of energy was transmuted I suddenly felt like I was being hoisted upon these men’s shoulders as they cheered and held up pints of bitter. I heard music and felt like I was in a British pub being celebrated. Because I often felt like I was in the middle of a party at the end of my healing sessions, the festive mood and music were quite familiar, but I wondered why a pub? Then it struck me. Of course! Granddad had come over from England when he was just a boy. These men were British!
Every now and then I come across people in spiritual circles whose focus is to heal their ancestral lineage. My advice is to focus on your current life. Yes, use meditation, guided meditation, or hypnosis, or whatever modality you use. Spend your time and energy on yourself and your current relationships, and you never know when patterns affecting you now will be revealed as ancestral.
Who told you? Who told you that God is someone to be chased after? Who told you you’re not good… enough? That yes, sometimes you’re good But it’s not enough?
Who told you God is outside? Outside and out of reach? Always just out of reach Always just beyond your fingertips? Who told you these well meaning lies? As they look down the block and around corners. As they twist themselves in knots. Searching for what’s right behind them Right in front of them Right beside, beneath, and above them. Searching for what’s already deep inside Waiting to be found. Hiding in a closet Or behind a rock Hiding beneath shame Under an umbrella of pain Resisting love raining down. Pushing away your divinity With all your might Because you’re just trying to survive This thing called life?
Don’t listen to them dear child They know not what they say. Instead listen to the wind and birds. Listen to the snow melting into rivers Washing to the sea. Listen to the waves And pebbles on the shore Mother Nature’s symphony. Listen to the quiet whispers Emanating from your heart As you’re swept with desire For something more Something bigger Something that sparks in your soul.
That is God.
The golden thread of your life’s story That’s in constant evolution. Constantly being woven Intertwined with threads of the rainbow Blooming petals and ideas As unique and perfect as you.
God is already within and without. She’s the impulse of life The propulsion of the ship bearing your name. Loving your journey through life. Holding you effortlessly and endlessly.
Jumping right in, my intention for 2022 is to surrender to whatever is. To be ok with what’s presented to me in the moment. It doesn’t mean to give up, but to stop pushing against things that aren’t what I want them to be. Things that no matter how much I wish they’d change, very likely won’t. Things that I’ve been trying to resolve that aren’t.
What you resist, persists.
Often, releasing pressure, letting go of the desire for things to look a certain way or happen a certain way is the wiggle room the Universe needs to bring something even better into our lives. To bring our soul’s desire to fruition.
To me, surrendering often gives me just the needed pause to allow magic in. It’s the precursor to magic, which I’m all about creating.
My wish for everyone is for your lives to be touched with grace and ease, and for your walk through life to be filled with magic.
This time of year is when we pause briefly in our busy lives to celebrate the birth of and to reconnect with what a radical dude known as Jesus taught. That we are all one. We are interconnected not only physically through interdependence, but energetically. We pause to focus on love, generosity, joy, and light.
I always loved Christmas growing up. The excitement and anticipation of what Santa Claus would bring, and the excitement of seeing family I only saw at holidays. Parties and singing Christmas carols with friends, and dressing up. Later, going out on my own, I created my own Christmas, whether I was sharing an apartment in Key West with four other people or on the other side of the globe on a ship.
Some of my favorite things about Christmas are the music and buying presents. I love finding that special something I know someone will love. Or making gifts. As a girl who never had much money, my local hobby shop provided everything I needed to make jewelry gifts, and when as an adult I had a microscopic business selling my photography, soaps and lip balms, those were also gifted at Christmas. I love hand-crafted and homemade.
When I was in high school, my mother, older brother, and I played the two church services on Christmas Eve. Vivaldi’s Gloria, Handel’s Messiah, and Christmas carols. Mom and I on our violins and brother on his trumpet accompanying the choir. As much as I sometimes found church services a bit boring back then and only went on Christmas and Easter, it was fun to play music. Because there wasn’t much time between the early evening service and the 11 pm service to get dinner, after Mom decided to pick up a pizza one year, it became a Christmas Eve tradition we carried on for several years. And one I’ve carried on with my family because my husband often works on Christmas Eve. It’s quick, easy, and delicious.
Every year, just after Thanksgiving I crank up Christmas music. No matter what’s going on in my life, this music always makes me feel good, or if I’m struggling, it soothes me. And I’m not biased regarding the type of Christmas music. Classic carols sung by Bing Crosby, new hits from Kelly Clarkson, songs from my childhood like the Chipmunks, or tunes from Jimmy Buffet that take me back to the days working on boats in Florida and the Bahamas. It isn’t Christmas until I’ve listened to Handel’s Messiah a few times or Vivaldi’s Gloria. And when I’m in the mood for something soothing, I tend to turn to Celtic music, or instrumental guitar or piano. As I write this, I’ve got my favorite Windham Hill Celtic Christmas album on.
When my son was little, we carried on the tradition of making Christmas cookies. Sugar cookies in all shapes, decorated with sprinkles and colored sugars. And making Chex party mix, small loaves of banana and pumpkin bread. My favorite Christmas tradition for a long time was making braided cardamom bread that my best friend’s mother made and always gave us. It was a sweet bread infused with crushed, fragrant cardamom seeds that was nirvana to me, and when I left home I took a copy of the recipe. Although food sensitivities and allergies have prevented me from eating it for the past several years, I still enjoy things infused with cardamom, like chai tea.
Gifts, music, food, and family. Getting together with friends and family. Reconnecting with people I haven’t seen in far too long is my favorite part of Christmas. But with the ongoing pandemic and my own private journey with Kundalini energy still making life in general quite challenging, staying in touch hasn’t been easy. Thankfully, we’ve got the internet and phones.
When life took a metaphysical turn a decade ago, it put me on a track of healing and becoming more and more aware that there’s more to life than the world I’d known my whole life. It put me on a track that brought all sorts of surprises, like experiences of Jesus himself. Once, I saw how he healed people with the energy of pure divine love blasting out of his heart chakra like a jet engine. Similar to using Reiki and Pranic Healing, he used the energy and his consciousness to raise people’s energetic frequency and to see them whole and healed.
Another time, when I was releasing a bunch of my own crud near the end of a hypnotic healing session, as I watched black sticky, tar-like sludge come out of my heart, all of a sudden Jesus appeared in front of me with his hands outstretched. He beckoned me to give the blackness to him. When I hesitated, he insisted that I give all of it to him. To not hold back any of it. He could handle it. He could very literally take it, and he did. Blew my mind!
Having been on a healing journey for just over a decade, I’ve realized that Jesus works with me to help heal my heart. He’s all about the heart. And the heart houses our primary connection to the Divine. There’s a tiny point within our heart that connects us to Source. To God. A connection we all have, but generally aren’t aware of. Yet when I was at a workshop a half dozen years ago, using guided meditation we were walked into and through that point (actually, I slid down a slide like I did when I was a kid – wee!) to the other side. Landing in the lap of Source I was shown that we are all connected. That we’re all one. I was shown it and the remembrance vibrated in every cell.
Through energy healing experiences I’ve not only seen how connected I am to people but in cases where I held onto painful memories, the vibration of pain has been dissolved. And I’ve learned I’m not innocent myself of causing hurt and pain in the world. All the negative emotions we hold onto, although part of the game of life, can be healed. And until we heal, pain tends to beget pain.
This time of year the veil between worlds gets thin. With such a large focus on things like Christmas, the recent winter solstice, and bringing light and love into the world, my inner world’s been vibrating with the energy of reconnection and forgiveness. The energy of opening my heart even more than it’s been opened and letting more things go.
With Kundalini energy shaking me and rattling things loose, sometimes inner shifts happen without my consciously intending to heal something. Sometimes, when I’m in a quiet, private space in contemplation, shit just happens – as it did a few days ago. Musing out loud into my voice recorder on the subject of Christ Consciousness, I unexpectedly talked myself into a deep inner shift and release. And what came up, as I felt my heart cracking and ripping open was all about forgiveness. Being forgiven for being human. Forgiving myself for all sorts of less than loving moments in my life when I took out my pain on others. (I’ll be posting more about it over at Remembering My Divinity).
This is what we do. We become emotionally triggered or are in a bad mood, blame it on someone else, spewing a rainbow of crud outward. It’s reflexive, learned, habituated, and can at times feel temporarily empowering to go off on someone. Temporarily! And the only way the cycle ends is through a forgiveness process. A process of connection between people. I’m talking real open-hearted connection. Or by creating inner reconnection. Healing.
The healing moment set me free. It wasn’t the first time I’ve experienced healing around the pain I’ve caused others, but this time it felt bigger – deeper – broader. What this healing has done for me in the past is allow me to quickly take ownership over my part in someone else’s pain. It’s made it easy to apologize on the spot instead of retreating for sometimes a few days, stuck in my own world of hurt. But the energy of the recent healing wasn’t only for me. It felt bigger, much bigger. Like it was for the entire planet. Like this is what Jesus wanted us all to know. Deep down in our bones, vibrating in every cell, type of knowing.
Jesus is an avatar for Christ Consciousness. The embodiment of Oneness. And he’s a master healer – all about connection and reconnection. Helping us make our way through the world, reminding us to live through our hearts. Christmas is his origin story and celebrates his life, what he taught when he walked in the world, and what he still teaches through all sorts of spiritual channels (just tune in through your heart!). It’s about coming together, helping each other, spending time feeling joyful, and practicing acts of gratitude. It’s a time to take a minute, slow down, and remember our core essence of love.
My Christmas wish for everyone is joy, abundance, health, and above all, peace.
What does love feel like? It feels like there’s nothing I could ever do that’s wrong. It’s a warm, comforting embrace of complete and utter acceptance. It’s the relief felt when you find out everything going to be ok. When worry and fear suddenly melt away. It’s when your child lies because they don’t want to disappoint you, and you let it go. It’s when your spouse tries to make you happy with their version of love language, not yours, and you accept the gift anyway.
I grew up thinking love was the aching pit in my stomach when someone I was attracted to didn’t reciprocate. Or that love was the happiness I felt when someone I was attracted to actually did reciprocate. I was taught that love means doing for others even when you don’t want to, and smiling when you want to cry.
And then I felt the love of spirit. The love from spirit. The love that vibrates both in and through me that I was born with. That we’re all born with. There will never be enough words to describe the energy of love because it’s beyond words.
Love is acceptance. It fully and completely allows all. Yes, ALL. It observes without judging, takes notes without criticizing, and hopes with every fiber of its being to know itself through each of its creations.
Love is so much more than merely an incredible feeling, it’s information. It has all the answers and knows before I do. It doesn’t dictate to me which choice to make or way to go but allows us infinite options. With do-overs always an option.
My favorite thing about love is magic. It grows people from a few cells and creates lives that look like everything under the sun and then some. It saves us from certain death and allows us to cross over to its loving embrace.
It’s intelligent and healing and looks like bright white light made from rainbows of every color. Love is the perfection of geometry and math while creating limitless music from eight notes and then some. It animates and inspires brush strokes and little fingers who paint masterpieces on paper, canvas, and macaroni strung into a necklace.
I could spend all day trying to describe love to you, but it would be much easier for you to go hug your loved one. The one you cherish, who makes you light up.
Have a wonderful day filled with the light of a thousand suns, and love.
On this Veteran’s Day it’s my deepest and most sincere desire that one day people are able to find ways to keep lines of communication open, and to learn how to heal broken lines of communication so we don’t have to resort to war and other armed conflicts to solve disputes.
And the quickest way to peace may be healing our own inner wars.