​I have long believed that divinity is everywhere expressed, including in, around and as me. As the saying goes…there is nowhere that God is not. Here’s how I look at it…I am divinely encircled, protected from harm and infused with pure life.

This encirclement nurtures me and gives me security. It’s like a bubble that has absolutely everything I need and desire inside, but that cannot be penetrated by anything other than good. That which looks like ill will from another or threat from some malevolent force does not touch me.

While it seems logical that my encirclement would isolate me from those I love and those with whom I would connect, it does not. My bubble touches theirs and the exchange is full and rich. I touch many, and they in turn touch many. In the end (or as it all began) we are all connected.

All of the bubbles that exist are encompassed by one limitless bubble… unthinkably immense…unquestionably and absolutely good…All That Is. My tiny bubble is of the exact same nature as the limitless one. This is true of all bubbles and any seeming evidence to the contrary is just a thought.

I am divinely encircled, completely protected, ever connected, All That Is, One.

​In the past I have been stingy with myself, giving to myself sparingly, allowing myself only a modicum of pleasure, satisfaction or fulfilment. It was as though I rationed my happiness because I was uncomfortable with generous portions, fearing that I might be given too much of a good thing. Nonsense!

In the depth of my being, I believe that Goodness prevails, that Goodness is the very nature of creation and, being a part of and a participant in that creation entitles me to Goodness. Yet, I have shrunk back from receiving the gift that I’ve been offered.
To be full is to have no room for more; my glass cannot accommodate more, though it is only partially filled with my Goodness inheritance, and I cannot fill it higher. I’ve been reluctant to displace the inconsequential and unimportant and bitter contents of the glass, because I was comfortable with it, even though the taste was not sweet. No more!

I release that which does not make me happy, that which does not make me eager for opportunity, that which does not make me swell with pride. I siphon off the bitter and the inconsequential so that I may realize completely the Goodness that is waiting to fill my glass.
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I will sip the fullness of grace. I will quench my thirst with the fulness of being. I am ready to chug down the fulness of joy. The fulness of time is here!

​I’ve always been uncomfortable with the idea of speaking my truth. It’s not that I don’t want to say what I am thinking and feeling. It’s just that it seems either arrogant or self-deprecating to do so. I often end up feeling either superior or inferior to another.
Speaking the truth in love is appealing, but when I give that a try, I get so caught up in getting ‘my truth’ out that it ends up being caustic to the ear, and/or hurtful to the heart of my listener. I don’t have a good sense of what is truly mine to say and what is not.
For me, the value of love precedes the value of truth-speaking. Harmony, which I consider to be a synonym for love, is the outward expression of Oneness, an idea with which I am most comfortable. The Buddha points me in the right direction. “If you propose to speak, always ask yourself, is it true, is it necessary, is it kind?” he says.
I find my way to harmony (love) by inverting and editing the phrase. ‘With love, speaking the truth,’ I say. Putting love first takes the edge off of speaking the truth. It’s an art for sure, but one that I can master.