On Life and Words

  In the village life our ancestors knew, there was no divide between sacred and ordinary. Life itself was spiritual. Making bread was prayer. Sweeping the floor was meditation. Watching the moon was prophecy. Reclaiming this spiritual simplicity begins with intention. It doesn’t require a church or doctrine—only a willingness to see the divine in daily life. You can: • Light a candle before meals. • Bless your home with song or scent. • Meditate while washing dishes. • Create seasonal altars in your home or yard. • Gather friends for shared silence or storytelling. The village lifestyle invites us to slow down enough to  feel  again—to remember that Spirit is not found in grand gestures but in consistent, quiet care. It lives in eye contact. In deep breath. In shared sorrow. You don’t need to seek enlightenment on a mountain. The sacred is already here—in your kitchen, your garden, your community. Return to the holy in the ordinary. Reweave the thread...

 There’s a dangerous myth that undocumented immigrants are more likely to commit crimes. Here’s the truth: 📉 Undocumented immigrants commit fewer crimes than U.S.-born citizens. 🔹 A Texas study (PNAS, 2020) found 45% lower felony conviction rates for undocumented immigrants. 🔹 The Cato Institute (2018) showed native-born Americans had nearly 2x the conviction rate. 🔹 The American Immigration Council (2021) confirmed no link between higher immigrant populations and crime rates. 🧾 Being undocumented is a civil violation — not a criminal offense. Most undocumented immigrants work hard, follow laws, and live in fear of being deported for even minor missteps. 💡 Let’s stop blaming immigrants for problems they didn’t cause. We need policy rooted in truth — not fear. #ImmigrantsAreNotCriminals #NoHumanIsIllegal #ImmigrationFacts #TruthMatters #StopTheStigma #ImmigrantsWelcome

  Before language wrapped itself around thought, before stars were mapped and stories recorded, a divine whisper hovered in the stillness of existence: You were made for communion. Not productivity. Not prestige. Not even progress. But presence—shared, sacred, and simple. In the beginning, there was God. Not alone, but communal. Father, Son, and Spirit—eternally entwined in the mystery of mutual delight. And from that holy oneness, we were fashioned—not as isolated beings, but as echoes of this divine togetherness. The fingerprints of the Trinity are pressed into our souls, and our hearts are restless until they find that reflection mirrored in another’s eyes. Eden was not a solo stage, but a sanctuary of relationships: God walking with humankind in the cool of the day, Adam reaching toward Eve, the earth offering itself as a friend to the feet. Every element of paradise pulsed with connection. Even in perfection, solitude was “not good.” This tells us something vital: we were made...

Long before clocks dictated our every moment, We lived by a quieter rhythm - one whispered by wind and woven in stars. There was a time when we didn’t need alarms to wake us. The light did the calling. The birds did the beckoning. We stirred when the sun kissed the earth, and we rested when shadows stretched long across the ground. Time wasn’t something we chased - it was something we  belonged to . When Morning Was Sacred There is something holy about the way the morning light slips silently into the room - as though heaven itself tiptoes in to say,  “Begin again.” In the days of our ancestors, the rising sun was not an interruption to a long to-do list. It was the opening chord of a sacred song. The warmth on the face.  The rustle of trees.  The scent of dew and soil. All these were signs that life was returning—again, faithfully. The sun became a companion, not a countdown. Its slow, deliberate arc across the sky taught us the value of  process . That everyth...

What if there were a different way—a rhythm of life alive with purpose, rooted in connection rather than consumption? Imagine a village not born by chance but by intention—a community shaped by shared values, where each sunrise signals a collective opportunity. You awake, not as an individual lost in screens and errands, but as a vital thread in a broader tapestry. You tend a garden, side by side with neighbors, co-creating nourishment and learning from the soil. You collect eggs together, laugh over morning smoothies, clasp hands at the dinner table, and soak in the wisdom of elders. A real village thrives on interdependence. What if your mental health care didn’t rely solely on appointments, but on intentional check-ins: listening circles, shared struggles, and spontaneous care? Practical supports weave through your days—childcare managed collectively, elderly neighbors helped with errands, skills passed from hand to hand. In times of grief or celebration, you don’t stand ...

We dream of intentional living, but how do we make it real? First: collect your circle. Who’s in? Write a shared mission: do you want to grow food, educate each other, live off-grid, celebrate spiritual rituals? Put words to values. Next: meet regularly—kitchen table chats, outdoor walks, virtual sessions—to nurture clarity and cohesion. Step two: land & layout. Urban, suburban, rural—each has pros and cons. Look for a place with common space potential: a shared garden, a fire circle, indoor gathering rooms. Think evergreen solar exposure, accessible public transport, local schools. Third: design for coexistence. Shared meals: who cooks and when? Childcare rota: who’s awake when? Elder care: can you foster intergenerational connection? Maintenance: who mows lawns or fixes leaky roofs? Write the schedule, but test it flexibly—regular retrospectives let you adjust. Fourth: build your economy. Mutual aid thrives best when it’s reciprocal. Have a shared fund for tools, seeds, and suppl...

 Actually, I pretty much just let life and my depression take over me for awhile. So I stopped writing.  What a shame it is that the times we need people the most we end up isolated? Whether by our own doing or some other circumstance. It’s been a rough year. I’m now over a year since my hysterectomy. I still hurt with any strenuous activity and I have struggled with stomach issues and severe anxiety since my surgery.  Now trying some new medications and a new routine for self-care. We shall see how it goes.  ❤️