Welcome.
I wrote these in the middle spaces—between thunder and the quiet after.
They carry my voice.
They will echo in yours.
Take what opens you.
Leave what doesn’t.
Write nothing down if you choose;
or mark the margin with a word only you understand.
NOW & the Hourglass
Order isn’t rigid; it’s breathable. The hourglass flips and I re‑member myself in the fall of sand. I don’t hurry. I let gravity do its work.
What would feel like less effort and more truth today?
Truth Without a Blade
Love is not concept; it’s a frequency I live. I don’t perform. I resonate. When I speak from the golden heart, thunder arrives clean.
Where could you tell the truth without sharpening it?
Body, Vessel, Devotion
My walk is a non‑negotiable prayer. Movement is how I say: I’m here. I choose a thin veil over a wall.
What small devotion would make today more honest?
Standards & Identity
My standard is the story I live. I keep my word to myself and the world rearranges accordingly.
What promise to yourself is ready to be kept?
Evidence
Sun rays at dawn. Pool sparkle. A doe with her velvet‑eared fawn. I used to call this gratitude.
Now I call it wealth.
What ordinary thing is your evidence of wealth today?
Love & Partnership
Devotion opens what defense would shut. Bridges can be rebuilt with breath and a soft jaw.
What would openness sound like in your next conversation?
The Era of Own‑ness
Expectation is a lens I choose. Aging is rising. Plan A is the life I’m living.
What are you ready to own without apology?