Another World is Probable

A friend asked me an audacious (in a good way) question: “What if you only said yes to things that were a heck yes instead of settling for things that are mediocre?” My friend isn’t referring to every situation because to be an adult means sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do. Will I ever say “heck yes” to washing dishes or filing my taxes? Personally, I will not but I still wash dishes and file taxes. But other things? The way I spend my time? The people I hang out with? The dreams I have? It’s a good question.

My friend asked this because right now I do a lot of settling. I frequently say, “It’s fine,” or “This is good enough,” because I don’t believe what I want exists. Here is a small, but telling example. I have about a billion pairs of pants that all sort of fit. Maybe the length is fine but the hips are too wide. Or the hips fit well but the waist is too big. Why do I buy these pants? I settle for them because I don’t think I can have what I want. Lest you say, “You can custom-make pants,” I did! And even those don’t fit quite right! I gave up because it was too much of a hassle/expensive to get tailor-made pants retailored. But this is precisely the issue. At some point, I give up.

This could be my closet but it’s not because mine is worse. Photo by BBiDDac on Unsplash

Pants are one thing but dreams are another. I keep saying I want to be a novelist but then I spend my time applying for jobs I don’t actually want or paralyzed with self-doubt about my writing abilities. The refrain is, “I can’t do it! Novel writing is too hard! I’m bad at this!” But here’s the thing – the Divine Beloved placed this dream in my heart because I have a novel idea that wants to be birthed in the world, ideally through me. By applying for full-time writing jobs that I don’t want and don’t have the energy to do, I’m settling for a half-life where I’m bumbling around too scared to pursue what I really want, which is to make a living as a creative person.

My breakthrough, at the moment anyway, is to say, “Forget that! I’m writing a novel and it may be bad in the beginning but that’s what revision is for!” If I say I want to be a novelist, I have to actually write a novel. If I say I want a romantic partner I have to stop wasting my time with people I’m not actually interested in. Everything I want in life requires me to not settle, to not say mediocre is acceptable.

In my spiritual tradition, we say there are six secrets to success and the very first secret is firm determination or saḿkalpa. Some people interpret saḿkalpa as “intention” but that’s not how we interpret it. My teacher says, “This firm determination is the secret of success in each and every human life. Where there is no firm determination, one will never be successful in any arena of human life.”

He says that because without firm determination, you’ll do what I do and buy pants after pants that don’t really fit. Or you’ll live somewhere you don’t like because you’re scared nothing better will come along. Or you date someone because no one else is showing interest in you. Firm determination means saying, “I must do it! I must ____! There isn’t another option.” That’s not to say what you desire will come quickly, or at all if it’s not in your best interest, but if your will and the Cosmic will line up, you’re sure to be successful if you keep your eye on the goal.

I dream of a world where we focus our attention on what we really want. A world where we recognize the first factor for success in any endeavor is firm determination. A world where we understand the power of saying, “I must be successful” and we aren’t distracted along the way. A world where we stop settling for what’s merely fine.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.

I feel unmoored because a very significant relationship has entered a new era. For context, this is a person who knows everything about me – all the things I want to keep hidden, my missteps, the self-destructive thoughts and actions – everything. She’s witnessed every crisis and every celebration from the last 12 years. She’s offered guidance, care, and support through it all and played an enormous role in me being the person I am today. In other words, she’s a true MVP. But now she’s not available like she was before and my inner child is freaking out.

It’s not only about the change in this relationship. It’s about the many, many changes over the past month. The things I thought were steady have turned out to be not so steady. Other relationships have dropped off, regular events have come to an end, and people died. All of it has me asking, “What can I even hold onto? What can I count on?”

What’s funny is that sometimes the universe gives me the answers to my questions in advance. Earlier this month, I had a conversation with a friend about precisely this topic. I told him the constant, unchangeable, permanent entity in our shared spiritual tradition is called Sat and that when we meditate, we are practicing Iishvara prańidhána. “Iishvara” means controller of the universe and “prańidhána” means to adopt something as a shelter. Therefore, Iishvara prańidhána means to adopt the controller of the universe as a shelter. It means to take refuge in the controller of the universe. In other words, to remember what is truly unchangeable.

We all need an anchor. Photo by Grant Durr on Unsplash

The joke’s on me because I thought I was having a casual conversation about spiritual philosophy with a newcomer when instead I was laying the groundwork for a huge spiritual lesson. My inner child, and other parts of me, want good things to stay the same. We want cherished relationships to remain steady and ever-present but they don’t. The nature of this universe is to change and I can no more stop things from changing than I can control when the sun sets.

When I contemplate how everything changes, I could curl into the fetal position and rock myself or I could do what my spiritual teacher suggests, which is to remember what is actually permanent, unchangeable, constant, and steady. Yes, it’s the Cosmic Consciousness but there’s also a relationship with that entity that’s important to remember.

He tells us that Cosmic Consciousness is our one true friend, and even more than that, the Divine Beloved is bandhu, or a person or entity who cannot stand separation. According to my spiritual philosophy, Cosmic Consciousness is inextricably involved with everything and cannot stand to be separated from Its creations.

Everyone else will come and go but the Divine Beloved is with me now, forever, and always through every lifetime. In this period of my life where so much is upending, it’s nice to remember I do have a reliable friend I can turn to all the time in all the ways. There is something I can hold onto like an anchor when I feel adrift at sea and that something is the Divine Beloved.

I dream of a world where we remember the only constant in life is change. A world where we stop trying to make impermanent things permanent. A world where we know where to turn when life gets choppy and we need something steady. A world where we recognize there is something we can hold onto and that something is the Divine Beloved.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.

In high school and college, I was a stage manager. For the uninitiated, that’s the person who notes all the actors’ blocking, feeds them a line when they ask for it, calls the lighting and sound cues during the show, and just generally supports the director in manifesting their vision. I was good at it because I perpetually thought about the future and what was next. The shadow side of being an adept organizer/planner is I have trouble staying present.

After every show, I fell into a depression because there was no next. I didn’t have to plan and had no idea what to do with myself. I’m no longer a stage manager but the behavior didn’t quit when I stopped participating in theater. I still focus far too much on the future because I think that’s where my happiness lies. It’s the “I’ll be happy when” trap but life doesn’t happen in the future, it happens now. In this moment.

I can’t mention this topic without quoting Ram Dass and Eckhart Tolle. Ram Dass says in his famous book Be Here Now:

“[I]f you set the alarm to get up at 3:47 this morning and when the alarm rings and you get up and turn it off and say: ‘What time is it?’ You’d say, ‘Now. Now. Where am I? Here! Here!’ then go back to sleep and get up at 9:00 tomorrow. Where am I?? Here! What time is it? Now! Try 4:32 three weeks from next Thursday. By God it is – there’s no getting away from it – that’s the way it is. That’s the eternal present. You finally figure out that it’s only the clock that’s going around … it’s doing its thing but you – you’re sitting here, right now, always.”

Tolle writes, “Most humans are never fully present in the now because unconsciously they believe that the next moment must be more important than this one. But then you miss your whole life, which is never not now.” Yep. And to underscore the point some more, here’s another quote from Ram Dass: “What are you doing? Planning for the future? Well it’s all right now but later? Forget it baby, that’s later. Now is now. Are you going to be here or not? It’s as simple as that!”

What a moment. Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

Simple but not easy. There’s a part of me that thinks I can skip to the “good part” of life where I have the husband, the house, the bestselling book, but I forget that the work now is how all of the future dreams come true. I can’t have the things I want now because I’m not the person I need to be to receive them. Here’s a true story to illustrate this.

I met a woman many years ago who I knew would become one of my closest friends. I wanted us to become bosom buddies, to quote Anne of Green Gables, but this friend didn’t get the memo. When she had a bachelorette party and didn’t invite me, I was hurt and disappointed because it didn’t seem right, it didn’t make sense. We were supposed to be close friends! Never mind the fact we hadn’t logged the hours on the phone or spent the time together in person to make that true!

Fast forward to today and not only am I invited to her bachelorette party, she asked me to give a toast at her wedding because we are bosom buddies and she wants to signal that to her community. I couldn’t have skipped to this part because our friendship hadn’t grown and developed. We didn’t know each other well enough to warrant an invite to her first bachelorette party. We lived our way into the future by being present to what was.

My spiritual teacher says the past, present, and future are not separate and distinct from each other. He adds, “Nothing suddenly emerges or suddenly disappears; all entities respectfully obey the Cosmic laws in a disciplined way and proceed from the future to the still more distant future in the panoramic flow of the Cosmic Cycle. No one can resist the momentum of this Cosmic flow – no one can contain it – no one can suppress it.”

I take that to mean, yes, the past influences the present and the future, but again life is a flow happening in the here and now. Am I moving with it or not?

I dream of a world where we live in the moment. A world where we understand the future is not more important than the present. A world where we recognize we can’t jump ahead to the future because we have to live our way into the future. A world where we remember life always happens here, now.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.

It’s been a very up-and-down start to the new year for me. I’ve cried every day thus far, which is not my MO. I have a friend who jokes that it’s a good day when she only cries once but that’s not me. I’m more of a “cry as needed” type and I guess right now it’s needed because all this grief is coming up about my friend who died, yes, but about other things too. Grief is a gateway and once the door is open, grief about a variety of things waltzes through.

Amid this grief though, there have been sweet things, miraculous things. Because of negativity bias, I could focus on all the things going wrong in my life but I’d rather not so I want to tell you about a small miracle I experienced. It’s my way of noticing the presence of the Divine Beloved in my life.

About three weeks ago, I listed my friend’s guitar for sale on Craigslist and Facebook marketplace. (She lives in Europe and thus can’t handle the logistics herself.) I don’t know the metrics for Craigslist but the Facebook ad had 611 clicks and about 25 people messaged me, every one of them saying, “Is this still available?” When I replied, “Yes,” they disappeared. After a few weeks of this, one man reached out to me and said, “Will you accept $100 less than your asking price?” No, I would not.

Not the guitar in question, in case you were wondering. Photo by Jefferson Santos on Unsplash

That same man messaged me multiple days in a row while I kept holding out for a buyer willing to pay the full price. After not getting any traction, I caved and agreed to $50 less than the asking price with that dude. What follows is our actual exchange:

Me: “Meet me at ____ elementary school.”
Him: “I’m honestly I don’t have a car. Is it possible to meet at my house?” And he proceeded to drop a pin of where he lives.
Me: “I don’t have a car either. Let’s meet at a bus stop that’s in between the both of us.”
“I don’t know how take buss.”
“Then I’m sorry it won’t work. Taking the bus is easy. You can also take a Lyft or Uber.”
“Try if can bring me here that will be great. Thank you.”
“No.”

I’m half convinced that if I’d gone to this random man’s house I would have been robbed and/or murdered. It was crushing to have this option, even a terrible one, off the table and to be left with nothing. I prayed fervently, asking for help, the guitar feeling like an albatross around my neck. Literally the next day a woman messaged me, “Is this still available?” I anticipated the same song and dance of no response after my initial “yes” but she said, “I’m interested and I can come by today.” So that’s how I got rid of the guitar for the asking price and in a public location.

Some people might not think that’s a miracle but I do because it arrived when I was at the end of my rope. Yes, I could have sold the guitar to a shop but my physical capacity at the moment is low. There’s a circular light bulb sitting on my ottoman that I’ve meant to recycle for three months but haven’t because I can’t find the energy or motivation to do so. Schlepping a guitar across town? Even more impossible.

The miracle is I didn’t have to “push through” or go through a hassle because Higher Power came through for me. I perpetually think HP won’t, that this time will be different, but so far, the universe’s track record is 100%. The solution never arrives when I want it to but that’s a different story. When I think about this small miracle, my breathing deepens and my body relaxes because I remember the universe loves and supports me. And I hope you feel the same.

I dream of a world where we recognize there’s a power greater than ourselves at work in our lives. A world where we witness moments of ease, sweetness, and grace. A world where we know the universe will come through for us even though sometimes it’s at the last possible second. A world where we savor the small miracles.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.

Even though I sync up better with the Jewish New Year, the Gregorian New Year still acts as a mile marker for me. I ask, “How does this year compare with last year? What did I think of this year? What happened?” When I contemplate 2023, I realize I couldn’t have predicted 99% of the things that transpired. I thought I knew what the future held but I didn’t, like, at all.

I want to predict the future to give myself a sense of safety. If I know what’s coming, I think I can prepare for it but I’m not sure you can ever truly prepare. For instance, you build up savings in case you lose your job but then you lose your job and it’s still discombobulating. Or your parent is on their deathbed and then they die and it’s still devastating. Can you ever prepare for what life brings you? Or can you only live it, one day at a time?

The future is like this. Photo by Maddy Weiss on Unsplash

I’m reminded of that famous Rainer Maria Rilke quote that says:

“I beg you…to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”

As we enter the Gregorian New Year, I’m living the questions. I keep searching for answers but the answers aren’t here yet because the future is still unfolding. There are still many unknowns for us mortals. At this point, you might be sick of reading poems on “Another World is Probable” but I’m sharing another poem! Here are three stanzas from John O’Donohue’s poem “For a New Beginning:”

In out-of-the-way places of the heart,
Where your thoughts never think to wander,
This beginning has been quietly forming,
Waiting until you were ready to emerge.

…

Though your destination is not yet clear
You can trust the promise of this opening;
Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning
That is at one with your life’s desire.

Awaken your spirit to adventure;
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;
Soon you will be home in a new rhythm,
For your soul senses the world that awaits you.

There is a world awaiting us but we’re rising up to meet it. We’re living the future with all its question marks and unknowns. Life happens here, now. While I’m mulling over whether this thing will happen or that thing, my life continues. In the shadow of my friend’s death, I want to be present for what is, not what could be. And that means not worrying about the future and instead letting it unfold as it will.

I dream of a world where we have patience with the unresolved questions in our hearts. A world where we understand the future is mostly unknowable and so it’s better to be here, now. A world where we trust the promise of our life’s opening and the grace of beginning. A world where we let the future unfold.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.

A former therapist and coach told me once that grief can feel pleasurable in an unexpected way because every other emotion is heightened. You’re sad but also recognizing the transience of life and because of that transience, strawberries taste sweeter and time with loved ones is more precious. When he said this to me, I told him he was off his rocker because there was nothing pleasurable about grief but now I see what he meant.

We’re theoretically in the “happiest time of the year,” but against the backdrop of the holidays with the sparkly lights, sappy movies, and festivities, I’m sad. I’m grieving the loss of people I knew well and people that I didn’t. In the background, there’s a refrain that so-and-so isn’t here anymore and so every moment becomes more precious because I know in my bones that tomorrow isn’t promised. Grief shakes me from the dream where I think I know how anything will play out. I don’t. I really, really don’t.

My former therapist is right. My heart, it hurts. It’s squeezing in my chest and feels tender and fragile. And yet, because of the pain, there’s also more pleasure because when I come across delightful things, they are more delightful. A father and daughter were on the same Bart train as me to the airport, and then on the same flight to Seattle, and then they also took the Seattle light rail and sat next to me on that train. I watched the daughter swinging from the rail above her head as if it were monkey bars and smiled.

Darkness and light are paired together. Photo by Sasha Freemind on Unsplash

I look at the birds nibbling seed from the feeder outside my parents’ window and say, “Wow. You’re so beautiful.” The sun seems to shine brighter, flower colors are more vibrant, and everything is amplified right now because death is also so present. I’m hugging my parents a little tighter, a little longer, aware that our time together is limited.

Rashani Réa speaks to this in her poem, “The Unbroken:”

There is a brokenness
out of which comes the unbroken,
a shatteredness
out of which blooms the unshatterable.
There is a sorrow
beyond all grief which leads to joy
and a fragility
out of whose depths emerges strength.

There is a hollow space
too vast for words
through which we pass with each loss,
out of whose darkness
we are sanctioned into being.

There is a cry deeper than all sound
whose serrated edges cut the heart
as we break open to the place inside
which is unbreakable and whole,
while learning to sing.

I didn’t think it was possible, but sorrow is amplifying joy because the dial has been turned up in my life. I’m just as likely to burst into tears as I am to burst out laughing. I feel a little unhinged, a little uncontained because I am. Something has been broken open and at the moment I am painfully, exquisitely alive.

I dream of a world where we hold our grief and our joy with tenderness. A world where we recognize sometimes sorrow leads to joy because we’re aware of how fleeting everything is. A world where we absorb the preciousness of where we are right here, right now because we recognize this, too, shall pass.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.

Death is strange. You already know that but I’m stating it again: Death is strange. There are people who seem like they’re on their deathbeds, who you’re sure only have a few months to live who wind up sticking around for another five years. And then there are people who are young, who you think have another 40 years left, that die suddenly. Death is always a shock but it’s the sudden ones I have the most trouble processing. It reminds me of that passage from Macbeth:

Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more.

It is so very painful to take in that you won’t hear a person anymore. You won’t see their posts on Instagram. They won’t encourage you to donate to their charity run. They’re just … gone. At least in their current form. My spiritual teacher says, “This expressed universe is nothing but a collection of temporary entities which are undergoing constant metamorphosis according to the sweet will of nature.”

We all matter. Photo by Helena Lopes on Unsplash

We’re all undergoing metamorphosis, energy isn’t created or destroyed, so the person is still there but also not there and I’m sad about it. In my life, I’m mourning the sudden death of Matt Peter. I didn’t know him well, we didn’t chat on the phone, but what I did know is he was a good man. He genuinely tried to make the city of Albany, New York, a better place. He was a local politician who cared tremendously about his constituents and days before his death he participated in a charity run. That man showed up and he tried.

He approached politics with zeal like it was his mission in life, which tracks with what we say in my spiritual tradition. One of our tenets is that a person will merge in Cosmic Consciousness only after completing the duty assigned to them by Cosmic Consciousness. The trouble is, there’s no sand timer in the sky letting us know when the sand has run out. The person is there and then they’re not.

Some people worry about their legacy. They wonder how they’ll be remembered once they’re gone, if they made a difference, if anyone will think of them. I take comfort in that Carl Jung quote that says, “The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.” If there was any reaction, you made a difference. You’ll be remembered. You mattered.

I’m not going to tell you to seize the day, to live life to the fullest, or any of the other platitudes we hear so frequently after someone dies. Instead, I’m reminded of that game where you stand in a circle and hold a piece of yarn while also throwing it to someone else in the circle. In the end, you wind up with a giant web that connects every person to everyone else. That’s what I think life is like. So of course when someone dies, the metaphorical yarn is tugged and we all feel it, some more deeply than others.

Yet every person in my life who has died, I miss. Every person counts no matter how tangential our relationship. And that is something worth remembering.

I dream of a world where we allow ourselves to grieve no matter when or how grief shows up. A world where we remember we each have a duty and when we’ve fulfilled that mission, we return to the Source of creation. A world where we realize we’re all connected and any death leaves an impact. A world where we understand that every person counts.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.

It’s a weird time to be Jewish and to celebrate Hanukkah, which commemorates a military victory. I’m still lighting the candles with my friends and family but the whole thing has me contemplating many things: how to be in the world, what I think, why it matters, and who is listening.

If I listen to people in the digital world, everything seems terrible. I don’t only mean the active wars. People are saying spiteful things during presidential debates. They’re presenting polarizing views and shooting for the lowest common denominator rather than higher ideals. If I only focus on the digital world, I get depressed. But in the physical world, things aren’t so bad depending on where you live.

The sign says it all. Photo by Adam Nemeroff on Unsplash

In the physical world, people say, “Hey, is that your umbrella?” when they notice one left behind on a train seat. In the physical world, strangers smile at each other. In the physical world, good Samaritans help elderly ladies carry their walkers up bus steps. It reminds me of a poem by Danusha Laméris called “Small Kindnesses” that I’m quoting a portion of:

I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.

That’s my experience of the physical world. That mostly we don’t want to harm each other. That usually we see one another as human beings and say, “Here, let me make things a little easier for you.” It’s that genuine care and love for humanity that solves problems great and small, according to my spiritual teacher.

“This love will give people guidance; it will show them what to do and what not to do,” he said. “It is not necessary to study great numbers of books or to rely upon those who speculate with the future of the silent masses. The only essential requirement is to look upon humanity with genuine sympathy.”

That’s what I’m doing. Day by day, week after week, month after month, year after year, I’m looking upon humanity with genuine sympathy and love hoping that one day, it will all add up. That my small actions and someone else’s small actions will turn into something bigger and greater so that when people are out in the world, they’ll say to themselves, “Things aren’t so bad.”

I dream of a world where we recognize there can be a difference between what people say and how they treat each other. A world where we remember that people may be mean and spiteful on the internet, but in the physical world, they hold open doors for one another and say “bless you,” when someone sneezes. A world where we understand the only way to solve our problems great and small is by starting from a place of love and kindness.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.

One of my soul sisters sent me a birthday card that says, “This card is decorated with matter-of-fact boldness and fierceness, and so it is especially suited to you.” Her words keep ringing in my ears because I don’t feel particularly bold or fierce and I have trouble embracing those descriptions because for much of my life, the word “too” has been attached to adjectives describing me: too sensitive, too intense, too much. Some parts of me want to shrink and play small in order to stay safe. If I hit a certain threshold of boldness, fierceness, and intensity, I want to reel it back in but I’m not able to do that anymore.

My body is making it clear that I’m expanding my threshold, that I can’t keep holding myself back. And in the external world, I’m receiving affirmation that living boldly is a good thing. This weekend I went to “Let’s Glow SF,” which is a festival that projects visual art onto the side of buildings and plays accompanying music. These are 285-foot projections of penguins and ships and geometric shapes. These are unapologetic pieces of art that are made to be noticed. I didn’t hear a single person say, “I wish they were smaller.” Instead, every person appreciated how big and bold the art was. We all oohed and aahed at how cool it was to see art of this magnitude.

The colors! The beautiful boldness! Photo by Claudio Fonte on Unsplash

Another affirmation about living boldly comes from one of my non-blood nephews. At almost 20 months, his favorite expression at the moment is, “More, more.” Stirring tealights in a metal bowl? “More, more!” Having a dance party in the living room? “More, more!” If it’s not’s bedtime or something harmful, the adults in his life are acquiescing to “more, more.” As someone who’s used to “less, less,” it’s astounding to give and receive “more, more.” It’s sweet to watch the fullness of my nephew be celebrated. Witnessing him, I see that the passion and excitement truly are a part of his makeup. What if the same is true about me?

In my spiritual tradition, we say everyone is born with certain inborn traits and characteristics. It’s how we’re made, if you will. The environment also shapes us so this isn’t a “nature versus nurture” thing, more like a “nature and nurture thing.” How this relates to me is that I’m not “too” anything. I’m just right because I was born this way. I’m a highly sensitive person and that means I’m attuned to things other people don’t notice. I’m a passionate person and that means I love deeply. I’m a direct person so nothing is hidden with me.

I won’t qualify those characteristics by saying they’re good or bad because the truth is the answer varies depending on who you ask. Some people will think I’m “too” whatever. But others will think I’m not “enough” whatever. The more important question is how do I feel? How I’m feeling is that I want to be my full and true self. I want to be more of who I am without self-imposed limitations. I want to be like the artwork I absorbed this weekend and my nephew who’s a delight. I want to be the person my higher power made me to be, and that includes someone bold and fierce. And I want that for you too.

If voices tell you you’re too much or not enough, I encourage you to question whether that’s true. Is it the capital “T” Truth or is it just someone’s opinion? Would someone else think differently? Could you, too, embrace the fullness and authenticity of who you are? If so, I’ll be over here cheering you on.

I dream of a world where we allow ourselves to be who we are. A world where we recognize people will always have opinions about how we should act but that doesn’t mean we have to pay attention to them. A world where we express the fullness of ourselves because we understand we were made the way we are. A world where we allow ourselves to live boldly and fiercely.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.