Another World is Probable

Here in the U.S., the prevalent perspective is one of rugged individualism and separateness. Instead of viewing all of us as being in this together, we operate from a materialist worldview that says only matter is real and humans are alienated from not only each other, but everything.

The materialist worldview says the cosmos doesn’t have any consciousness and thus it becomes much easier to objectify, well, everything. But there is no "other" or "out there." This cosmos is a spider web and if you pull on one thread, it vibrates the rest of them. More in this week's recording. 

This weekend I had a small taste of what other people have been experiencing for the past year with this pandemic. Serenity, a cat I love and the closest I’ve come to a pet since I moved out of my parents’ house, died. Under normal circumstances, I would have been able to say goodbye to her in person but because of the pandemic, I said goodbye over Facetime.

I keep thinking about an article I read in the Atlantic nearly a month ago detailing Bhutan’s experience during this pandemic. It has me wondering, what would life be like in the U.S. if we followed Bhutan’s example? Would I have been able to say goodbye to Serenity in person? More in this week's post.

I'm an empath as well as a highly sensitive person. (If you want to determine if you're one too, you can take a self-assessment test.) It’s challenging because it takes so much freaking effort for me to just live in the world. Things that other people don’t give a second thought – like going to a sports game back when we could do that safely – I have to weigh the pros and cons.

Most of the time, I think of sensitivity and empathy as gifts I’d like to return, but the reality is that doesn’t serve me. What's the solution here? More in this week's post. 

I keep thinking about the notion that my higher power wants me to be happy, joyous, and free. Due to the trauma in my background, it’s a heck of a lot easier to think God wants me to be sad, miserable, and suffering. But is that really true? More in this week's post. 

Looking through my Facebook memories, it seems February is frequently a month that I walk along the razor’s edge of fear and faith. At any moment it’s easy for me to slip onto one side or another. It seems only fitting because February starts with the letter “F” after all.

While watching TV this weekend, I heard a line that resonated with me: “Faith is worthless if left untested.” How true. More in this week's post. 

On Saturday, I remarked to some friends of mine that I’ve spent nearly a year querying literary agents for my novel and no one wants to represent me. One of my friends chimed in, “yet. No one wants to represent you yet.” That word snagged my attention because there’s so much hope and faith wrapped up in three letters. “Yet” implies not now, but in the future. More in this week's post. 

If I’m being honest, I’m not doing that great. I woke up this morning with a swollen eyelid – not eyelids plural, just the one – I haven’t slept well for the better part of two weeks, I’m so tired my ears are ringing, and I’m pretty sure I’ll bite someone’s head off if they look at me funny. What's helping me is remembering the secret to meditation. More in this week's post.

When I was younger, anything felt possible. The future felt open, magical, and mysterious. However, then I became a bit of a cynic and the future has felt closed, prosaic, and straightforward. Now I'm coming back around and realizing with help, anything can happen. More in this week's post.

I’m resharing this post from September 2019 because once again, I find myself in a hallway, metaphorically speaking. 

A close friend of mine used an analogy the other day that’s stuck with me. She said her higher power has closed a door in her life and hasn’t opened another one yet. That means for now she’s stuck in a hallway, waiting for another door to open. Yesssssss. That’s so my life right now. I’m in limbo, in a hallway, waiting for something new, for a door to open, but it hasn’t yet and it’s uncomfortable.

I came across an article the other day I found incredibly inspiring considering what we’ve all lived/are living through. In Australia, for the first time in decades, Christmas bell flowers are blooming in high numbers because of the bushfires that raged through the area in late 2019, early 2020. I love this story because so often when it comes to devastation and destruction, in my mind, everything is terrible forever. This story reminds me that’s not true. Certain plants only grow because of fire. And furthermore, something beautiful can come from something tragic. More in this week's post.