May 2020 – Voices in My Head

Go with the Flow

Uh oh—it’s 9:00 a.m. and I haven’t even started today’s blog. In a perfect world, the publish button would have been pushed by now, but hey—who said anything about a perfect world?

I’ve been fishing around hoping to catch a little inspiration, but sometimes those fish just aren’t interested in offering themselves up as food. Sometimes inspiration strikes as I read the posts of other bloggers and sometimes, I just get lost in their insights, awareness, and stories. Today was one of those days. Their inspiration inspires me.

The Inside Scoop, a newsletter that I write for my condo building, is due today—well, maybe it’s more of a half-blog-half news sort of a thing. That means that today is a two-publication day. Double the pressure, double the fun. There is not much juicy stuff to fill a two-page newsletter during a pandemic, so sometimes I have to fish for inspiration for content for that as well. Once in a while, the thing becomes a cross between a make-it-up-as-I-go venture, and a rambling stream of consciousness thing. The folks seem to enjoy it though—at least they haven’t fired me yet. Maybe that’s because there’s no one else willing to do the job for free.

Inspiration is an elusive sort of thing. Sometimes it just presents itself as a welcome gift, sometimes it doesn’t. Why is that, I wonder? Oh, I know it’s in there somewhere, but why is it that on some days it is easily accessible, and other days not? Have I become so stuck in a rigid writing routine that I’m afraid that relaxation will knock me off balance and out of control? Am I in even in control in the first place? As for the balance question—well, maybe it’s best just not to go there.

I used to gather inspiration from a simple walk in the neighborhood. An encounter with a squirrel could elicit a range of emotion starting with pure joy and happiness then morph into rage and anger in the space of twenty seconds. Finding a wasp walking around inside my purse could bring about both fear and relief in less than fifteen. A blister on my heel, a piece of chewing gum stuck on the side of my shoe—who gets gum stuck on the side of a shoe? Inspiration in unlikely places, all grist for the mill, all an opportunity to take tiny little nuggets of life and seek to find within them something amusing and/or meaningful.

Those musings of many years ago eventually morphed into a book that became the birthday gift dedicated and presented to my mother in honor of her 100^th birthday. It was a joyous moment for her, and for me. But that’s another story in itself.

Maybe I need to get out more. Maybe the pandemic has left me bereft of the external stimulation that I need to get the creative juices flowing. As I sit tapping my fingers on the arm of my chair in both anticipation and anticipation, the light dawns. There’s nothing external about it. It’s an inside job. Like the Scoop, I can go with the flow and make it up as we go.

There is nothing that I need that I do not already have. It is all hiding within the recesses of my very own being, waiting to be discovered, waiting to be released out into the world. The keys to unlocking the door are faith and gratitude, but those are subjects for another time. Until then, may your day be inspired, may you have faith to know that all of your needs are met, and may your heart be filled with gratitude for that you have and for that which is yet to be.

Note: The photo above is courtesy of New Waves of Light, a website designed by anonymous individuals around the world who share the intention of bringing light and love to a world of darkness and chaos. (newwavesoflight.org or NWOL.us).

In Search of Good News

I’m on a serious quest to find good news. What with the horrendous death of George Floyd and the ensuing circumstances, plus the pandemic, the depressing politic scene, scary economics to name but a few, we need all the good news that we can get.

I admit to having a full-blown Pollyanna mentality. I admit that I really do not want to see anything that hurts my heart. I also admit that there is plenty of news out there that I really, really do not want to acknowledge. I readily confess to employing the head-in-the-sand trick when something ugly rears its head. Yes, I know it’s there. Just don’t show it to me. They don’t call me the rainbow unicorn for nothing. So no. Don’t show me.

Somehow, the news always manages to find a way to seek me out in spite of the fact that my head is stuck in the sand. This morning it was my iPad that bore the news of protesters spreading social unrest across our nation in reaction to George Floyd’s death. This unavoidable troubling news shows up in our lives even without benefit of a TV, and like it or not, it floods the consciousness of every single being on the planet whether we realize it or not. It’s in the noosphere. But enough said about that because bad news is not good for us. The less focus on it, the better.

Today on Facebook, I found a heartwarming little tidbit of light shining through the darkness, a bit that perhaps in some tiny measure may remind us that in spite of the overwhelming focus on negativity, there is goodness still alive and well within the heart and soul of humanity.

This morning my quest for good news led me to a photo from Facebook of a Tarrant police officer, William Stacy. The caption brought a tear to my eye.

This woman stole 5 eggs to feed her children. Instead of arresting her, Officer Stacy bought her a truckload of groceries.

Ahh. Finally, some good news to add a bit of balance to the ugly. I wish there were a scale on which we could weigh the balance of good news and bad. I wish that we could have proof positive and know for certain that good is winning.

When I look at the photo of the man responsible for the death of George Floyd, I see the face of a troubled, haunted man and it makes me wonder what would drive a person to be capable of such behavior. I cannot imagine what that possibly might be, yet I find myself overwhelmed with a sense of compassion. There but for the grace of God go I.

There are things that we cannot know, save what drives our own behavior, and even that sometimes remains a mystery.

I know that if I do not like what I see, I can choose another way to look at it. I know that I can decide how I feel about something, and that my decision will have an impact not just on myself, but also others as well. I know that I am responsible for my own thoughts and actions. I know that I am the one who makes the choice about what I want and what I don’t. And I am the one who recognizes the profound impact of every choice and decision that I make.

The heart of humanity embraces the individual heart of every person on the planet. Within that heart beats kindness, love, and compassion, ever present if we will but seek to find it. Individually and collectively, we hold the power to tip the balance in favor of light and goodness. Seek and ye shall find.

Come Fly With Me

Well lucky me—today is another day of practicing the art of loving what I hate. Yep—I’m off to the dentist again. (here) This time it’s the periodontist, where receiving a very expensive and painful diagnosis is a real possibility. Off into the fearful unknown I go again. I’ve promised myself that I’ll put the anticipatory hand-wringing ritual off until I get in the car. Oh wait—I think I promised myself that I wouldn’t do that anymore. Did I lie?

Yesterday I freaked out over being late for a doctors appointment and stressed myself into an attack of atrial fibrillation. A minor personal issue, and yet fear strikes again, and stress has an impact on my health. If a minor incident like being late can produce enough stress to cause a health glitch, just imagine what a major issue might churn out.

Big pharma and the media are heavily invested in hypnotizing us into watching the news. First, the media scares us to death with bad news, then the drug companies swoop in to sell us the drugs we need to fix the problems that the media has produced by filling our heads with so much fear. For the media and big pharma, it’s a winning combination. For you and me? Not so much. It pays to sell bad news.

Why are we so attracted to bad news? Why do we glue ourselves to a TV screen and allow ourselves to be bombarded day after day with hideous negativity? Why have we turned our power over to the media? Why are we not like a firefly that is attracted to the light instead?

What will it take to wake us up and get us to change the channel?

Fear is fear, no matter the size, shape or scope. Regardless of form, whether it is a personal issue like going to the dentist, or an issue that presents itself on the world stage, or a vague, unsettling fear of the unknown, it is still fear. Regardless of cause, it has an impact. I can wring my hands over dental visits or thoughts of the world as I know it coming to an end, but truly, what good will it do? What benefit do I bring to myself or to my world if I allow fear to take over and run my life? What drugs will I need that will fix me?

That’s quite enough fear for one day, I think. Or for one lifetime, for that matter. It’s time to change to the good news channel of hope. If I were a member of the media, here is the first bit of good news that I would report: we are not broken. We do not need to be fixed. We need only allow ourselves the luxury of a change of mind.

If I had the power to give just one gift to you, my brothers and sisters of humanity, it would be the gift of the ability to replace fear with the faith that would fill you with the knowledge that beyond what appears dark and hopeless, there lies a world of truth, beauty, and goodness.

In the very depths of my being, I believe that this is so. There are millions more like me in the world who are standing strong in the storm, holding a safe space for others to follow with hands outstretched to help those who seek their way into the light. Have faith my friends. Together, we can weather this storm and overcome the darkness. If faith is too difficult for you to muster on your own, grab a hand, hold on tight, and be lifted into a New Heaven and New Earth on wings of love and light.

The Temple of the Soul

How many times have you found yourself hanging out in your closet wondering what to wear? How often have you risked catching a cold with in your head stuck in the fridge wondering what’s for dinner? Since my daily blogging adventure began, a new what question has been added to my list. What shall I write today? Have pity on me.

Uh oh—it looks as if today might be shaping up to be one of those soul-searching kind of days, so if you’re not into that sort of thing, now might be a good time to bail out before it’s too late. But if you have the stomach for it, read on. You never know what’s coming, but we’ll find out together.

My morning writing routine usually begins with a paragraph that just shows up all by itself, then leaves me wondering where to go next. I fidget for a while, doing my best to fend off the inevitable distractions—pitchers that fall off of bookshelves, (here) fingernails that need attention, self-questioning that leads to the search for purpose and meaning. Why am I doing this? Is anyone listening? How long must I continue? Is this a spirit-directed thing or is it ego driven? Or both?

Sometimes while in the midst of all of this mental fidgeting, the really heavy-duty questions typical of a serious, spiritually-oriented soul searcher pop up. Who am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose?

Uh oh. Now I’m stuck. Writer’s block strikes again. Today is high up on the where-to-go-next list. Perhaps it’s time for a little chat with myself. My Self.

Have I choked off the flow?

No, you are just not open to it. You have momentarily decided that there is no flow, or that if there is, you are not privy to tit.

Or right. Silly me. Cut myself off again. I need a haircut. Me and the rest of the world. There I go again with the distractions. Typical.

The problem today is that you have momentarily lost sight of your purpose for writing a daily blog. In addition to that, you have not taken enough time to go within yourself to be still, and thus you have also lost touch with the source of your creativity.

Yes, I have. Lost it.

There is a difference between writing daily and writing a blog. Daily assumes that you are writing for yourself, in a personal journal, for example. A blog will be seen by other eyes which then begs the question, who are you writing for and why are you writing? What is the purpose?

You are writing for you. It helps you to see clearly, sort through personal issues, find solutions, reconnect with your source, be refueled, rejuvenated, restored. It returns you to the stability of the soul and rescues you from the clutches of the ego. You need only become proficient in distinguishing between your writings that are private and personal for your eyes only, and those which are for other eyes.

If there is benefit to you, there will be benefit for others as well, so in that sense, you are writing both for yourself and for others. Again we remind you that your task is simply to write, to be a messenger. What happens from there should be of no concern.

Ahh. Thank you for reminding me. It is through writing that I am returned home to the temple of the soul. What a blessed relief.

The Pitcher and the Pandemic

This morning I shocked myself awake by catching an unexpected glimpse of myself in the mirror. Good Lord I look like the wild woman of Borneo. Thanks, pandemic. That picture brought to mind an image of a swinging vine, and the memory of a failed bar with the same name that my inexperienced, entrepreneurial husband swore would make him rich, which then conjured up a picture of wild-woman me swinging on a vine high amidst the trees in the jungle.

In the space between flushing a toilet and walking away, I took myself on a no-cost tour of the jungles of Borneo and enjoyed a sky-high swinging vine excursion in the process. Wow. What a trip—all in less than five seconds, and I never even had to leave home to enjoy it. Isn’t the mind amazing?

I thought I knew where this morning’s writing adventure might be going, but then a funny thing happened. While sitting peacefully in my Lazygirl minding my own business, the silence was shattered by the sound of a large ceramic pitcher crashing down from a bookshelf and smashing to smithereens on the hardwood floor. Books that had been sitting in the same place for many months suddenly fell over of their own accord and that was the end of the pitcher.

This sudden unexpected turn of events leaves me in a bit of a quandary. Where do I go from here? So many options. I could just forget it and return to my original writing thoughts. Or I could shift gears and launch off on a tear about whodunit and why, or chalk it off as a freaky accident, or question the possibility of whether I might have just touched a nerve of a dearly departed ex-husband, or whether or not it’s feasible to even consider such possibilities.

It brings to mind the recollection of other strange happenings—a notebook fell from a top shelf twice, potholders monogrammed with my mother’s initials were mysteriously displaced from a hook while I was not at home, a small picture of the Charles Bridge in Prague purchased when my mother and I visited there fell over twice, pots and pans turned themselves around in a cupboard so that their handles faced backwards; is someone or something trying to tell me something? Could it have been my mother telling me that she wanted me to move? She didn’t like my neighborhood. She didn’t think it was safe. Nine years have passed since I moved, and there have not been any odd occurrences since. Until today.

So what just happened? I have no idea, but it certainly makes me wonder. Am I missing something? Is there some “reality” that I know nothing about? It makes me think about life after life, and about how the life that I live while here on this earth might influence the life that I have after I take my last breath. It makes me want to try harder to do the best that I can while I am still here so that I will be able to live in a safe neighborhood when it’s time to move on. It reinforces my desire to get it right.

Why does anything happen? Who knows? But there is always a reason, if only just to stop us in our tracks for a minute and make us think. The pitcher and the pandemic—the perfect duo specifically tailored to help me learn a thing or two. Now all I have to do is figure out what.

I think I’ll go comb my hair, swing on a vine, and think about it for a while.

Light Up the Dark Corners

Some days it’s hard not to become disheartened by bad news. I may have stopped watching TV, but still, it’s hard to avoid the stories about customers who verbally and physically attack retail employees, or protesters with oozies out to protect their selfish rights, or governmental corruption, lies, political dirty tricks, and round and round we go where she stops, God only knows. So much ugliness in the world coming at us from so many different directions. Heaven help us.

If I were to allow myself to focus on all of this distressing news, surely I would be caught up in a frenzy of hopelessness unable to see a way out, or worse, be sucked into the fray by the unbridled fear-mongering heaped upon us daily by the media. It’s why I turned off the TV.

We need to see the light.

My mother used to say, “Light up the dark corners.” When she said it, she meant the room.

When I say it, I mean the world.

Before he died in 1991 at age 40, Lee Atwater, chairman of the Republican National Committee and manager of George Bush’s 1988 successful presidential campaign, took responsibility for his actions of “naked cruelty” by setting out upon a mission of making amends to those who had been hurt by his underhanded political tactics. “I did not invent negative politics,” he said, “but I am one of its most ardent practitioners.”

His deathbed confessions and apologies, according to some who knew him well, were fueled by his fear that he would go to hell for his actions. Perhaps this could be considered as an unlikely side benefit that fear provides for motivation for a change of heart.

Whatever the cause of his desire for repentance, it pales in comparison to the implication that change is not an impossible dream, even under the very worst of conditions. In fact, it may even seem miraculous that a man capable of such incredible manipulation and control might suddenly turn into the poster child for political good behavior and seek forgiveness for his self-serving actions.

It gives me hope. It gives me the hope that if Lee Atwater saw the light and could change, perhaps others will as well. It is not an impossible dream. Minds are changed one at a time. Perhaps the light might dawn upon one angry customer, or one armed protester, or one corrupt politician and bring about a change of heart.

If one person lights one match in a darkened room, all will be able to see. If one person turns on one light in one corner of a dark room, the room will be illuminated. Each one of us who sees and focuses on the light helps to dispel the darkness. Each one of us can help to change the world, one mind at a time.

When enough of us participate in lending light to the darkness, when the world is well enough lit, we will all enjoy the beauty, harmony, and bounty of a glorious new life on our beloved earth.

So please help in the effort of transformation and turn on your light. Light the match. Light the light. See the light.

Light up the dark corners.

The Heart Knows the Way

Yesterday I was broke. Here Today I am lazy.

The day that I was born, my sister became my mother and adopted me as her very own living, breathing baby doll. The fact that she was only two years older did not get in her way. She went about her task with fierce determination, meeting my every need before I needed it, doing everything for me that I could not do for myself. She continued her mothering duties well past the years when I was old enough to do for myself. Not surprisingly, I earned the reputation for being lazy because for some odd reason, I simply didn’t bother to do anything for myself. Imagine that.

I won’t give her full credit nor blame for my well-earned lazy reputation, because chances are that I showed up in life with lazy as my middle name. Nonetheless and even so, in her well-meaning mothering helpfulness, she facilitated the process and sealed the deal. Lazy I was.

My family claimed that I liked to get up earlier so I could loaf longer. Efficiency experts agree: If you want to get something done, give it to the laziest person in the room because she will find the quickest, easiest, fastest way to get the job done. So true. Efficiency equals longer loaf time.

If there is any truth in my belief that we arrive here on classroom earth with a fully loaded curriculum specifically tailored for our soul’s growth, then I was parked in the perfect family to help me realize and understand my need to overcome the obstacles that I brought with me into the classroom. Broke and lazy.

But here’s the good news. Like two sides of the same coin, we also come equipped with the wherewithal and the way to grab our demons by the tail and fling them over the cliff of self-doubt and fear. We have the ability to gain mastery over ourselves and whatever beliefs we hold that cast a shadow over the joy that is our inherent birthright. It’s all a part of the journey toward wholeness.

Easier said than done, one may say. How do you erase the pain of the past and heal old, worn out belief systems that stand in the way of personal peace and happiness? How does one answer such a question in the Reader’s Digest version of a lifetime quest?

For two years I held a grievance involving a husband and a friend. Not until I was able to see the profound damage that I was doing to myself by my unwillingness to forgive did I begin to realize the benefit of letting it go. Incentive and willingness became the key. Dear God, I want to forgive, but I don’t know how. Please help.

Sometimes it helps to take a “what’s in it for me” approach. Focus on the donut. Seeing the benefit can provide the energy that fuels the desire to make a change, even though doing so may be uncomfortable. Every situation is different. Every solution is different. Every soul is a wise teacher with our best interests at heart. Follow your heart, ask for help, listen to the teacher, study hard for your tests, and a diploma is your sure reward.. It isn’t easy, but it’s always worth it. Godspeed.

The Wealth of Poverty

When I was a little kid, I yearned for piano and ballet lessons. Apparently, my mother always wanted to be a Girl Scout, so I got sucked into being a Brownie instead. It was the beginning of the harsh realization that life didn’t always produce the results to which I would like to have been accustomed. No lemonade for me. Oh to be young and have no control.

To be fair, I will admit that the cost of piano and ballet lessons was out of the question for my dear widowed mother whose sole focus was on feeding her three children and keeping a roof over our heads. But of course, my small child self didn’t see it that way. I only saw that I didn’t get what I wanted. I vividly remember fretting over how one moves from a $0.25 per week allowance to acquiring an entire house plus contents and everything else that goes with being a grown-up. I also freaked out over the thought of being put in jail because I couldn’t afford the overdue fee of a library book Hence, at a tender young age, I developed a healthy sense of poverty consciousness that I wrestled with throughout my adult years. It wasn’t really a very good start to life.

Around age six, I poked a small finger at my own body and then at the body of a friend and wondered, “who” is in there, and why is she in “there” and why am I in “here”? Why does she live in her family, and why do I live in mine? Who decides? It was this same young friend who said to me, “Did you ever think that none of this is real?” Hmmm. Heady questions for a couple of little ones, wouldn’t you say?

Hence began my lifelong spiritual quest, and what an exciting, amazing, baffling, mystifying experience it has been. I’ve heard people say they’re not interested in finding inner peace because it would be boring. Boring? Ask anyone committed to a personal spiritual quest they will say that it is anything but.

Why was I born into a financially-challenged family? Why am I “in here” and why are you “in there”? Why are there as many life situations and circumstances as there are people on the planet? The only thing that I know for sure is that there is always a reason. For everything.

I believe that every life circumstance is a divinely orchestrated opportunity to provide us with the lessons necessary for our soul’s evolution. There are so many rich blessings and lessons to be gained from each one, if we can see past the blind spots that cloud the vision of what appears to be real, but in truth is only the illusion that we make up in our own heads.

My lifetime as a spiritual seeker has taught me that my work is just to grow where I’m planted. Certainly life hasn’t all been fun and games, but my willingness to travel down this road has led me to a place where I am content, happy, and at peace with myself. And by the way—it has never been boring.

Circumstances may appear to be immutable, but minds are not. They can be changed. A change of mind brings a change of life, both on a personal level and on the world stage. Every mind makes a difference. And it’s up to each one of us how we choose to think.

I began my life poor in mind, body, and spirit, but poverty has been replaced by a wealth of spirit. Now I can afford the overdue library book fee, and the house and its contents thanks to the realization that everything I need is readily available if I look within myself. There are miracles hiding inside waiting to happen. Seek and ye shall find.

The Gateway to a New World

Troubled times of crisis bring changes that can affect us mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually—changes that can jostle us out of our comfort zones. Yesterday a friend reminded me about a life-altering dream that I wrote about years ago and I think that it might be an appropriate time to share it again. Fair warning though . . . it is about 400 words longer than my usual blog size. And it begins . . .

Today I am reminded of a dream that I had many years ago, a dream so powerful that it provided me with the courage and energy that I needed in order to make a gigantic leap from one chapter of my life into the next. I feel moved to tell this story today in honor of those who are struggling with life circumstances that they wish to change, and who may benefit by being reminded that there is light at the end of the tunnel.

In my dream, I am walking toward a bridge, and want to cross, but there is a closed gate. I use this as an excuse to tell myself that I cannot cross because the gate is locked and is blocking my way. Instinctively I know that this bridge will take me to my future, but I am afraid to leave my past and move on. I am afraid of what I might find, that my future may be worse than my past.

Feeling a great sense of relief, I turn to walk away. As I do, I hear a voice that says, “Oh, but it is not locked. All you need to do is open the gate and walk through.” My excuse has vanished and fear clutches my heart. I do not want to go. I do not want to risk what I might find on the other side of the gate, on the other end of the bridge.

I am at a painful transition point in my life, in the midst of wondering how I will ever manage to find the courage I need to leave my husband of many years, and move from the West Coast back to the comfort of my roots in the east. I want to leave, but I can’t. I’m stuck. I lack the courage to move on with my life. I’m in the sunset years of middle age without the resources to sustain myself for tomorrow and forever. It is a frightening scenario. I am paralyzed with fear.

The persistent voice urges me to open the gate and step onto the bridge. With trembling hand, I lift the latch and walk through the opening. The gate closes behind me, and I look ahead at the vast expanse of space that separates me from the certain present to the uncertain future. I want to turn back but somehow, it no longer seems to be an option.

With great reluctance, I swallow my fear and put one foot ahead of the other as I start my journey across the bridge to greet my future. At the halfway point, I stop and realize again that I am again paralyzed by fear, unable to move one way or the other. I imagine myself living the rest of my life firmly rooted in the middle of that bridge, somewhere between the worlds of the past and the future.

Mentally, I review my options. The gate has closed behind me and I am not ready to face what awaits me. I can stand stuck on the bridge forever with one foot in the past and the other in the future. Or I can jump.

No, tempting though it is, jumping is not an option. It is not a viable means of escape. I turn toward the closed gate and much to my surprise, it is now open. Behind it stand a group of my friends, all smiling and waving to me, as if to wish me well and send me off with Godspeed and good wishes. I feel a lump in my throat as I realize that I must once and for all say goodbye to a piece of my past that had served as my painful comfort zone for so many years.

I turn toward the future at the other end of the bridge, and there is no gate. Another group of my dear friends await me, beckoning to me, encouraging me, anxious to welcome me home with open arms. With a mixture of sadness and joy, with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, I place one foot in front of the other and move forward into my future.

I reach the end of the bridge, the beginning of my new present, and joy begins to slowly seep through the sadness to fill the hole in my heart that was left behind in the past.

Today I look back with gratitude because my painful past is behind me, and I have moved on into an optimistic and brighter future, one that had been hidden from me behind a door that I did not want to open.

Crossing takes courage, commitment, and profound willingness. It isn’t always easy, but it is always worth it. All of the goodness and sweetness in life thrives in the happy atmosphere of a satisfied self. It is always waiting to be claimed, right there in front of eyes willing to see.

I guess that sometimes we just have to be willing to go through the brambles in order to enjoy the sweet nectar of life. And so to all those who struggle, to all those who wish to open the gate and cross the bridge, Godspeed and good wishes. Amazing gifts await you on the other side. Focus fiercely on the light at the end of the tunnel, and joy will be the ultimate reward.

The Donut Hole is Closed

This morning I parked myself in my Lazygirl with an ominous sense of quiet dread that mid-afternoon might arrive before I even started writing today’s blog. What shall I write? What can I talk about? Has the well run dry? I sit. I wait. I listen. Nothing.

An unsettling thought silently creeps in. I’m staring down into the donut hole again. Somehow, I’ve slipped into uh-oh territory without realizing it. I wake up, look around, and here I am again, like it or not. How did I get here without my permission? I have no idea. All I know is that I don’t like it.

It might have been a gradual slip that occurred while I wasn’t paying attention. I may have inadvertently allowed myself to dip into the sneaky, dark inner recesses of my mind that takes great pleasure in undermining me, that distracts me from my path and purpose. I might have been listening to the wrong voice again. Yep. I might have done that. Note to self: Be vigilant.

The light goes on and I realize—oh. This is what I write about today. I’m back now, with the opposite problem. There is so much to say in 600 words or less that I don’t know where to begin. Or end.

I could talk about lights that go on in the dark, or about the importance of developing an up-close and personal relationship with one’s inner self, or about having a sense of knowingness that all is well, or of faith, guidance, or grace, of awareness, or of being woke, as they say these days—I’m not quite sure what that means, but I guess it’s a good thing.

Out of all of it, what has been the most important aspect for me is developing an inner relationship with my soul, the part of myself, that loves me as I am, supports and guides me, that supplies grist for the writing mill, and above all else, redirects my attention back to my path and purpose when I lose sight of it, when I am at risk of tumbling headfirst down the donut hole.

In the midst of the world crisis in which we are living, there are donut holes everywhere I look. They come in all sizes, shapes, and forms, and their name is fear. They involve us personally, and they involve the world in general. If we allow it, we’ll all find ourselves clumped together in a heap at the bottom of the hole.

But wait! Before sinking down into the hole, stop and think for a minute think about how powerful you are. Think about the fact that there is something within you that contains the wisdom of the ages. Think about your ability to turn on the light within yourself to lift yourself out of the darkness, and in the process, light the way for others.

For a brief moment this morning, I forgot who I was and found myself sitting alone in the dark fretting about the subject of today’s blog. Now, as I come to an end, I am reminded that there is within me, a voice of wisdom that is always there for me, offering the quiet assurance that there is nothing that I need because I have everything, and that all I must do to hear it is sit down, be still, and listen. There is no crisis that is too big for the power within.