At age 28 on the north shore of Kaua’i, adorned by a bikini top and sarong, I decided I wanted to become a mother one day. Walking barefoot on the farm of two dear friends in Kilauea, holding their toddler on my hip, I thought, Life cannot get any better. At 38, I was pregnant. My whole being was ripened with the glow of new Life, a daughter growing inside of me, her father was elated. What!? Surreal. It was easy to eat well and hydrate abundantly after decades of that not being true, and my libido was more vivacious than ever. Everything felt alive. Again, I thought, Life cannot get any better. Ha! Ta-da… Now 48, celebrating my 49th birthday in three weeks, two seemingly contradictory truths are simultaneously true. Life is as good as it gets, and Life will keep showing me: even better. Gratitude streams from morning’s early birdsong and pinkened, uplit sky. My daughter is healthy. My dog is healthy. I am healthy (after a 2-week bout with a pesky cough and pinkeye). Having faced death three years ago, I will never count wellness as anything less than huge. When I dropped my daughter off at school this morning, after leaving thank-you notes in the office for the incredible dedication of my daughter’s 5th grade teacher and the school Director, this sign greeted me on the playground: Come on! Go ahead, try and be grumpy after being greeted by that. Gratitude feels so much better. I could go on, listing 1,000 things I’m grateful for today. And, I won’t. Bleep… OK OK, this morning I bought tickets to see Alison Krauss and Robert Plant in August. Whaaaaaaaat?! (Shirley, I hear you shrieking all the way down the coast in San Diego.) What I will share is this: Huge joy is available to you right now. All it takes is your choice to see it. It is that simple. That is how generous Life is. Since everything is contagious — as everything is energy — I’ll drop here some dollops of whipped-up Love-cream to brighten-invite you into seeing your own joy. Today I went grocery shopping at my favorite market, Oliver’s. My employer gave me a surprising day off, so suddenly — with my daughter at school and our dog on a pack hike — I was free to stroll down its aisles unhurried, gazing at brussel sprouts, flax muffins and glass jarred lavender fir chamomile candles on its shelves. I was just being, and it was all so beautiful. If you are a mama, you so understand this joy. Driving home, I listened to Colin Hay’s dreamy voice wailing in my car while I fantasized about the hike I would take once the rains calmed. And when I walked to my porch with four double-bagged sacks of groceries, I came upon a bouquet of flowers leaning against the door. One of my besties had left the flowers for me, and in her card she wrote her classic loving prose to honor the passing of my (middle) namesake, Maxine, who left her body three days ago. All I was doing was being — getting home after an errand. And I thought, How loved could I be?, as I unlocked the door to carry bags and flowers into the kitchen. As I folded up the bags, I thought, Yay! I can use these to carry recyclables down to the big bin in the parking lot. I was just being, noticing a stack of bags beneath my wool slippers on a rainy day. I admired their folded-up black and brown beauty, marked with the memory of the store I adore and only visit every six weeks. Thirty minutes later, the flowers adorned my piano — the one Maxine played for me on her last visit, when she was 90 — and gorgeous food filled my kitchen cupboards. How fortunate am I?, I thought, to have plenty of food to feed my child, myself and friends we invite to share food with us? To have friends who love my dog and are so grateful for the food we eat together? No. Small. Things. Every one, a gesture of Life’s Love. You might be a living Champion of Being, Aging and Bliss. You, too, might choose to bask in the elation of gratitude most — or even all! — the days of your precious Life. Know this: If you are having a tough day, one that you might rate a 60% or even 15% on the joy-scale with bliss at 100…
A better day is coming. When you choose to see it. Joy is everywhere. Why? Because you are so completely loved. I wonder what joy will look like when I’m 58. But not for long. This moment of now is so delicious, I’ll bask in it for awhile… Even when the body reaches 75 or 90, and pain feels all too familiar… the Light of joy is there, awaiting your eyes’ adoration, wanting your consciousness to choose to see it shining. The radiant arms of ecstasy welcome your embrace, just like a toddler who just made his first huuuuuge 1-foot leap off the edge of the slide, awaits your grinning applause.
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Sometimes Life needs to really throw us down to get us to listen. Three years ago right now, I was getting my skull sliced open so a massive (benign) brain tumor could be removed. She, like all pain, was an opportunity — a gift in disguise — and in this case, for me, she was a screaming invitation for me to be my body’s best friend after decades of ‘addiction’ to food and sugar. Today, I am three years old. What? On the operating table during brain surgery, I had a near death experience (NDE) that catapulted my capacity to see the Light of Love, the Light of God. This is why I capitalize all those words in the sentence you just read. They’re divine, all reflecting one another. I was shown up-close. This is now my second Life, so today I am three. In celebration, I will take you through a little visual journey that I’ve not yet shared with this level of detail. Part of my reason for sharing today is that my namesake is heading home for hospice. She is 92, physically frail, and on her way to the other side. Next week my writing will be in devotion to her, and for now I give thanks for my own precious Life, as she makes her transition. This first photo was taken on January 30, 2021 while hiking with my daughter. It was early in the Coronavirus pandemic and I had been depressed for five months, lonely, isolated and overeating. I was 60 lbs. overweight, which is considered obese; I felt heavy in every way. And I had noticed a strange crookedness on my face, one side of my mouth leaning down. I didn’t know it yet but I had entered early paralysis. I went to Kaiser for a scan (MRI) of my skull. On February 1, 2021, I had a call with a neurosurgeon who told me I had a massive brain tumor, the size of a mandarin. My facial expression here says it all. After a nine hour surgery with eight people working on me in the operating room, I was rolled into a patient room where I had taped a drawing from my daughter on the wall. Two unicorns, Helena and Mama. Her Love helped keep me alive. The first six weeks of recovery were painful. I turned to the stars inside of me, the divine Light that greeted me close-up during my NDE, to help me take deep breaths to move through the pain. Fifty-two titanium stapes kept my skull shut as the wound healed. My hair on the unshaven side had been tied up since surgery, and had become matted. Eyes closed, deep breaths, I kept seeing stars — golden yellow, glimmering, eternally serene stars that felt like the breath and song of God. My mailbox overflowed with cards. Penned adoration from friends, family, so many cards expressing Love for me. Taking another dose of painkillers and anti-inflammatory medications, I would hear a knock on the door and… there was another stunning bouquet of flowers. Where was all this Love coming from? I wondered. It was like I was standing under a waterfall after a storm, being cascaded by the ever-generous glow of God. People kept telling me, “Jess, it’s because of all the Love you give — it’s all coming back to you now.” Sometimes it felt like too much. Where do I put yet another card, and another bouquet? Once the staples were removed (yes, the bouquet is much lovelier to look at than this next photo), and I could walk without pain, the whole roof flew off. My Life felt like a constant spray of shimmering stars. When I walked down the sidewalk, it was as if I was skipping on stars. The pool of golden Light that filled my pelvis during near death, now swallowed me whole — permeating my every pore and inhale. Everybody glowed. Everybody was utterly lovable. Everybody was a reflection of God. As a prolific writer since I was five years old, I giggled at myself when I tried to write to my lead neurosurgeon. What words could dare attempt to express my gratitude for him? Somehow, words landed — right beside tears on my paper — and he was so grateful. Three post-op MRIs later, my skull remains tumor-free and there isn’t an ounce of regret about any of this in my being.
I have seen the face of addiction — the human choice to outsource the Love that is God, the agonizing despair we feel in the presence of this outsourcing, and when I surrendered to let myself be led by something much greater than me — I was shown the divine Light swimming inside of us. I wish this kind of pain on no one. Yet I humbly accept that we humans seem to need pain to wake up, and… And so it is. Whether stapled up or drugged up, or skipping on stars, Love is who we are — we are entirely loved and lovable — glimmering with Light. And so it is. I’ve been thrown down this week with a persistent cough and now pinkeye decided to join the party, so today’s post is on the simple side of things. It is a slice of curiosity from my heart to yours, an invitation for you to shape the content of the book I’m writing: Making Love to Fear. What do you struggle to love? What is it that comes to your attention, wanting you to be at peace with it? It appears, you do some introspective work with it, you think you’re done and then… it appears again, showing you that you’ve still got Love to live? When we are emotionally triggered by something or someone, it is a call to heal our fear. A signal that something within ourselves is not at peace, and that forgiveness wants to happen. This is fertile ground for growing up — maturing into a deeper and truer version of ourselves, free from self-judgment which is ultimately the only kind of judgment there is.
Here’s an example. In college, I became furious and heartbroken about the way humans treat our life support system, Mother Earth. I served in student government for two years, did environmental work in California and Washington D.C. for six years, then became a green wedding planner for another four. I wanted to do anything I could to love this planet. Then one day I realized I could be at peace with the state of the world ecologically, and that the problems caused by humanity’s negligence were not all mine to carry; I could do my part, and that is all. Ahh… Surrender… the biggie. Stress kills. I needed to forgive the polluters, overconsumers and the like — and even see myself in them — and let go. This transition brought peace of mind. It was humbling, softening the hackles of my fear so they could instead rest gently on the smooth, surrendered skin of my neck. Still, sometimes when I walk into a Big Box store and see the amount of plastic we consume, I notice I’m not done with this. Again, I am invited to choose Love instead of fear. My work isn’t done. Last week, in the grip of achiness, lethargy and a low fever, I started the chapter in my book on Loving the Unknown. Phew! Talk about biggies; that one’s universal. What — or who — do you struggle to love? What keeps visiting your mind’s doorstep, leaving you upset? It is a friend in disguise, indicating a place where you can find joy and freedom, if you simply choose to move through the fear it represents. Let me know in the comments or by email. Love, Jess How cool is it that sometimes, at the end of a tough day, all it takes is some kind words and our mood is lifted? My 10-year-old daughter delivers this kind of sweetness on a regular basis. Today’s share is short ‘n sweet. May it motivate you to share kind words more often. Flashback to last week. I’m driving my daughter to a friend’s house for a playdate after school, so I can go to yoga class. When we reach the front door of her friend’s house, she turns to me and says, “Mama? There’s a movie called Ferdinand, and in it there’s a bull named Ferdinand.” I’m thinking, Where is this coming from? She goes on, “And you know how bulls like to fight and be bossy? Well, Ferdinand doesn’t fight. He’s gentle and soft and he likes flowers. When I saw that movie, I thought of you. You’re like that, Mama.”
I stop thinking. Now I’m just feeling… loved. Doesn’t get better than this, right? “And Mama, when we were just listening to that Michael Jackson song about ‘the girl is mine’ and he said I’m a lover not a fighter? That’s how you are. That’s how I see you.” Day done. My daughter expressing kind words with some MJ & Paul McCartney music on top, with yoga up ahead. I could die happy. Here’s a 3-second version of this piece: Never say never; say yes to the glow of forever. Last spring, while facilitating a move for me and my daughter, I was extremely stressed out. This move would be our second of three in just 1 ½ years, and I was dying for a stable place to call home. Recognizing my despair, my close friend Gerald offered to take me out for lunch at one of his favorite local spots, a popular Puerto Rican restaurant called Sol Food. Our northern California sun was bright that day. Feeling the vivid spice of my Puerto Rican ancestry beneath my skin, I put on a halter top sundress with pineapples all over it and walked down to meet him. I had no idea what was about to happen. I was about to be greeted and embraced by what I call the glow of yes. This was the beginning of a 7-month relationship that gave me a profoundly beautiful, unexpected gift — and it wants to be shared with you. Here’s the scene. Picture a big, well-lit, gorgeously designed restaurant featuring family style seating, eccentric wooden tables held by a vast concrete floor and bold Caribbean colors. You walk in and classy salsa music dances on your ears and embraces your hips. Upbeat staff work their magic and the scent of island dining fills the air. Soft and sweet yellow madúros plantains and crisp savory green tostónes plantains, kissed with garlic. Big supple prawns breaded in plantains (gluten free!). Baked chicken thighs that melt in your mouth. It all brought me back to my childhood days spent feasting on my grandma Angelina’s platanos. Sol Food started in Marin County, where I grew up. Read more about it in this SF Chronicle piece, The Accidental Success of Marin’s Beloved Sol Food. Its original location in San Rafael usually has customers lined up from the register, out the front door and wrapped around the street corner. So I walk to meet Gerald for lunch. He is a Taoist and always has supportive wisdom to share. He tops off his wisdom with great jokes which help lighten up all the deep talk. Anytime I’m with him, I feel both moved and amused. From the second I walked in and saw Gerald waiting for me, my stress began lifting. Our hugs are always spectacular; that helps. His eagerness to eat Sol Food was palpable; he was essentially drooling about his beverage, Pónche, a popular orange mango iced tea punch with sparkling limeade. We ordered, found a table, he listened to my woes and offered wisdom. Suddenly I noticed a wild shift in my mood. It was like I felt the glow of yes all over. As the Puerto Rican music rolled down my shoulders, I told Gerald, “God, it feels really good to be here.” Was it the sol in the air? Sol means sun. I’m a huge fan of the sun, but we were indoors and… what was it about this place? Gerald and I ruminated a bit. Both in the kitchen and on the floor, staff seemed content. That’s a noteworthy positive trait for human systems. When staff are unhappy, I’ll rarely go back — those aren’t places I want to fund — not the kind of organizations I want more of in my world. Was it the aesthetically gorgeous interior design? Someone clearly put a lot of time and attention into designing the interior. Materials chosen, placement, composition, tall healthy plants, excellent lighting — that all has a strong draw. Plus, this place was really clean. Much cleaner than most restaurants. That requires systemwide discipline, it’s not an easy feat, and I found this admirable. Good food was coming to our table. Good music filled the air. The space was physically and energetically attractive. Staff were enthusiastic. All of this piled up to stimulate my own inner radiance, and combined with the company of a great, wise friend… Where did all my stress go? In the presence of all this ‘yes’, I felt like I was standing beneath a waterfall, being washed over by cascading vitality. I was on happy drugs, only without the drugs. The drug was joy. Just like during my 2021 near death experience, I felt like I was surrounded by a golden yellow light, the glow of yes. Glimpse back, three years ago, to February 16, 2021. I was anesthetized for nine hours, my skull was cut open and a massive brain tumor was removed from my left frontal cortex by a team of nine doctors and nurses. During surgery, I had a near death experience. I was offered a chance to ‘go over’, to die. I declined. I am a mother. I love being in a body. I love being alive. A golden pool of stars swirled in my pelvis. In the core of my being, I was communing with Christ Light, a divine symphony of yellow stars shimmering in my middle. This feeling stayed with me throughout the four days in the Neurosurgery ICU, and it hasn’t left me since. Its intensity is often dimmed, yet I can still feel the golden glow of stars — the golden glow of yes — as a guidepost to lead me through my days. Two years later it was spring of 2023 and there I was at lunch with Gerald feeling illuminated again. Yesness was shining all over. At that moment, a crazy idea came to mind and I thought… Is this really happening?! In all my years before, I swore I’d never work at a restaurant. I had seen people act snooty and rude to wait staff, and I wouldn’t tolerate that. Plus, I’d likely drop and break plates and move way too slow for the restaurant buzz. Ta-da! Nevermind. This glow of yes that filled the air took me over. I let it guide me. Gerald was tickled as he watched me stand up, walk to the manager and ask for an application. Three days later I was hired. That was seven months ago. And yesterday was my last day. While I move on to my next lily pad in professional reemergence after a gnarly-rigorous decade, I must extend galactic gratitude for my time at Sol Food. This is where it gets deep, people.I’m not talking about the pretty space or the happy staff now. I am talking about what can show up when we say YES to the glow. At the base of it all, this is about saying “yes” to the Light. It is a Light that is within all of us, even those humans who are filled with self-hatred and therefore take it out on others in atrocious ways. Within some of us it’s very bright; within some, it’s very dim. It is a universal Light within all beings, unchained by any religious or spiritual dogma. Light is eternal; dogmas are temporary. ChristLight is beyond Christianity and the two sometimes actually differ considerably. ChristLight is universal, proclaiming no judgment. It is vast and free, based in the true art of forgiveness, which is not based in the idea of sin. It is based in Love. Nature, when unimpeded, brings opposites into a sensitive order. This is the foundational cosmic intelligence, the Tao, the force that pulls polarities into tenuous balance. — Jeff Krasno, host of the Commune podcast We’ve got to acknowledge the other end of the spectrum, not the joy side. Work is called work for a reason. Compromises exist. Before I walked in that door, I never wanted to work at a restaurant. And I don’t wear black and white, but that’s what you wear when you work at Sol Food. Black pants, white shirt, time to go shopping. Standing on concrete for hours in a 48-year-old body led me to buy some of the ugliest sneakers I’ve ever seen, black skid-proof HOKAs which meant my body actually stood on inches of bounce for several hours, not stiff concrete. Unlike freelance work, I had to clock in at a specific time. And the pay, however fair, was humbling for me with my past as a leadership consultant for big, successful systems. There you have it, a job is a job. Right? To eyes that see superficially, yes. To eyes that can see — and feel — what’s beneath the surface, in the depths of human intimacy, expression and beauty… there is so much more. This is where the glow comes in. When I applied for the job, I truly had no idea this was coming. Working at Sol Food for seven months gave me an unparalleled gift. I got to love people. Straight up, this is what I did. On the surface, I was just a woman behind the dine-in register. No matter your mood, size or skin color, I would treat you with respect and take your order. Yet beneath that superficial layer of human interaction, it went much deeper. I literally got to embody and witness myself in an act of devotion to my lifelong religion: Love. Yes, this is something I intend to do on a daily basis; I take my ‘religion’ seriously. But one customer after the next, at a restaurant register? This part was new. I’ll break it down. It took me a few months to actually realize what was happening. The fact that I was loving people was nothing new; having been devoted to Love since childhood, I have unconscious competency loving people. That’s key — my competency was unconscious before this. It’s like someone who’s so competent with snowboarding that they can’t explain to a beginner how it’s done… “I just do it.” That’s how I had always been with expressing Love; I couldn’t explain how I was doing it, I just knew how to do it. Practicing anything for 40+ years will probably make you good at it. Most people, I’d say 85% of customers who walked up to my register, were simply willing to be treated with Love — greeted with eye contact and a pleasant hello, heard while they asked questions about the menu, listened to attentively as they placed their orders, addressed with patience and a cooperative spirit. This large majority of customers was treated with the simplicity of kindness, one of Love’s fondest hues. A small percentage (13%) of customers were in flat, gruffy or even sour moods, so the way I loved them was through Love’s essence: unconditional acceptance. Love doesn’t feed fear; Love liberates it. Besides, how did I know why their mood was off? To be of service to these souls, all I could do was offer Love’s gentle presence, as an unspoken invitation for them to feel it too. That brings us to 98%. What about the remaining 2% of customers? This is where the gold pours in — where I most explicitly felt that golden glow of yes during my 7-month stint with Sol Food. At least once a day, someone would walk through the door with their soul’s eyes wide open, ready for Love. If you read my writing often, you know I’m not talking about romance. No, I didn’t hit on customers. Love is both simple and complex, and it is impossible to define. I’m talking about Love — the essence of who we are — the most powerful force in the universe. I’m talking about Love as a feeling, the feeling of being at Home — in your body, in your Life, in this moment of now. When someone walked through the door who was open to being loved, I could feel it. Energetically. Our interaction felt uplifted by something bigger than us. We were like magnets in our readiness to dance in the potency of Love’s guidance. Ease moved through our words. Presence held our exchange. It was “on”... like two lightbulbs, two suns, living inside human bodies, exponentially illuminating. A tall, friendly black man who’d lived through brain surgery, too. His tumor was malignant; still, we shared great empathy for each other’s journeys. A radiant silver-haired woman who leads the local Blue Zones group, dedicated to human happiness and longevity. I learned about them at the register! Two men whose presence glows with nobility, who work locally with a respected organization called Muir Wood Teen Treatment Center, serving teens with addiction and mental illness. An elderly man who came in with his daughter; they both glowed with the beauty of Spirit-lit human presence. As she and I connected with each other, we discovered we’d both had NDEs! Almost every time, that ‘glow’ invites connection. A woman who leads a local hospice. New parents, grateful to feel seen and honored for the Life they just brought into the world. People stopping in from the East Bay, Silicon Valley, Denver and Ireland, wanting to check out the Sol Food buzz. Over the course of my seven months working there, I greeted hundreds of humans who willingly and gratefully let Love in, and gave it back. Light beamed from their faces as they walked away from the register. Literally, if I had taken a photo of them when they walked in, and another one as they left me at the register, these photos would depict two different energetic frequencies, the latter one: lifted, brightened, lit. Glowing. And all I had to do was love them. Often, it was children. Ever ready to be playful and to feel seen and loved, children were some of the easiest customers to love. All I had to do was ‘meet’ them where they were: breathing, energetic, interested… or even fussy, tired or frantic. If the child’s mama seemed to need help managing the chaos at her feet, I sometimes handed the child the table number, asking them a question about the photo it held. Or I’d hand them a piece of ice from the drink tray, and ask them, “What will happen if you put this in your hand?” There is no better way to show Love to a mother or father, than to love their children. When I clocked out for my last shift yesterday, tears filled my eyes. I loved working there, and it loved me back.
I could write an entire book about the beauty I was gifted through that job. Though I need to move on to continue the upswing in my professional reemergence, I will hold the golden feather Sol Food gave me, for the rest of my Life. It will accompany me into my next professional role, and all of those that follow. Even in the face of a never, choosing the glow of yes connects us with a Light that is forever. Anytime we’re greeted with an experience of pain, we have a choice. As with any other experience at any moment of our lives, the choice is Love or fear. About 10 years ago when I first saw the popular slogan, “fuck cancer”, something inside of me cringed. It wasn’t a response to the so-called profane word; they have their place. It was discord. A song inside my heart felt dissonance. Years later, it became clear to me why I’d found that statement so distasteful. Despite its intent as a slogan for cancer prevention and early detection, to me the words just didn’t feel right. They felt divisive, upsetting, based in anger and resistance. It’s physics: What we resist persists. Therefore, the choice to ‘fight’ cancer and make it an enemy actually enrages an already ferociously upset messenger of pain surfaced by the human body. Demonizing our pain empowers it. Pain is an aspect of fear. It invites us to blend with it through Love, owning our own essential power and soothing the pain, inviting it to calm down and transmute or even evaporate, instead of becoming further enraged. The human body is a masterpiece that is capable of only impeccable communication. It does not lie. Cancer is a message, an extremely loud — and usually very scary — scream, delivered by the body when its inhabitant, the soul in the body, needs the scream to become very loud. Though I’ve never experienced cancer in my own body so I cannot speak personally about its impact, I am not immune to excruciating pain and can passionately speak about how to greet it gracefully, giving it the medicine of Love. When I experienced 92 days with severe sciatica just two months after brain surgery in early 2021, it was because my body apparently needed to deliver another loud message for me to truly decide to be her best friend. For decades I had been on and off with this commitment; it was now time to fully de-cide. Decide — what does that mean? To kill off one option, choosing another. For me it meant killing off the choice to not be my body’s best friend. I was being invited to completely commit. Pain has a way of begging us to do that. Whether you are going through physical, emotional or spiritual pain, you can greet it as an enemy or you can greet it as a friend. As someone who is not only surviving but thriving, three years after surgery to remove a massive benign brain tumor, my vote is unquestionably for friendship. The choice for friendship. I named my brain tumor Fidela. For weeks after brain surgery, when the hair on the left side of my head was growing back after being shaved off, people would say, “Oh I’m so sorry,” about my brain tumor. While I knew they meant well, their words just didn’t work for me. So I gave myself permission to respond with some version of my truth: “Thanks for your compassion. And… if you had any idea what a gift the tumor was, you would see that there’s nothing to be sorry about. Fidela was a messenger I called in through courage. I want all the fear inside of me to evaporate. I want fear healed, because I want to live this Life in Love.” Only by loving pain can we heal it. Otherwise, we have simply tucked an unloving relationship under the covers, giving us temporary relief before the messenger chooses to surface in another way that just might fully get the attention of our essence — Love. Fear imprisons us; Love offers freedom. Dear Pain,Thank you for showing up. You are not easy to be with. You strike our nerves and muscles, hearts, breasts and kidneys with uncomfortable sensations. Understandably, we react, wishing you would go away at first. Then, we remember to breathe. One deep inhale and one deep exhale after the next, we listen for the call of Love within our being. And when we open our eyes to see through Love, we are able to see that you are an invitation to breathe. Something we've done for our entire life without consciously trying... Breathe. In your company, we are invited to do it with deep mindfulness. To pay attention. To feel the fullness of an inhale. To feel the fullness of an exhale. Pain, when we are in the presence of you, we are humbled as our ego self surrenders to the truth of who we are, and we ask for help. We accept that we need it, despite society’s fear-based instructions to “do it alone”. We cannot do it alone. We need each other because we are each other. One. And in this human experience where we appear to be separate, Love is the continuous dance of giving and receiving. Pain, you almost make it easy to ask for help. When you are atrocious, there is no second-guess. We ask. And when we allow ourselves to receive Love in moments of pain, we give others the opportunity to give it — to express it. And that feels good. That is what Love feels like. Pain, you give us empathy. Thank you. It is the empathy we need as human consciousness, to move through the colossal fear in our culture -- you invite us to choose freedom. May we learn as a species, as living breathing temples of this great thing called Love, to remember the truth of who we are — and to therefore need less of you to remember. Love, |
AuthorJessica Rios, Founder of Leaning into Light, was born with a divine pen in her pelvis. Her heart writes for her; Love is her 'religion'. A lifelong letter writer and a thought leader in Love, her blog is devoted to her greatest passion: illuminating the beauty of the human spirit so we all move closer to remembering that Love is Who We Are. Categories
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