If you’d like to hear me read today’s writing, click on the audio link above.

Join me for Imagine It, a creative visualization workshop beginning on January 2nd. After two weeks, you will have a journal filled with clear, bold visualizations, around which you can center your intentions and actions in order to align your reality more closely with your dreams. It will be the perfect way to enter into 2023. As always, there’s a substantial discount for paid subscribers of this newsletter. Go HERE for details.

Join me this Sunday at 12pm PST / 3pm EST when I’ll be guiding a free breathwork journey through my friend Jacob Nordby’s Heal + Create community. You must RSVP HERE to attend.

Hi Friends,

My friend Glenda emailed me the beautiful work of art above, along with this note: I made this for you. Just because. I can’t see your future, but loving and hopeful came to mind before creating this. How lovely of her, right? If you want to check out more of Glenda’s stunning artwork, I encourage you to do so here.

I shared the art, along with the piece below, which I wrote about five years ago, to Facebook and Instagram last week. There was quite a response, and knowing that many of you aren’t on social media, I wanted to share it here as well.

Here’s the writing:I want to hold my man’s hand when we walk down the street and not worry that we’re making others uncomfortable. Not worry that we may be called sick f*****s, or punched in our faces, or stabbed in our guts. Not worry that we may be killed.I want to hold my man’s hand without having to evaluate the risks involved, without having to look around constantly for threats, without having to trust my sense of safety or danger.I want to hold my man’s hand because I love the feel of his skin against mine, our palms pressed together, fingers entwined. Not to make a statement. Not to be an activist. Not to earn smiles or nods from ally passersby.I want to hold my man’s hand without young children pointing at us and asking their parents, “Why are those two men holding hands?” I don’t need to be the lesson, or the warning, of the day.I want to hold my man’s hand without teenagers scowling at us, reminding me that though things are evolving, many in this next generation will hate us still. Reminding me that our community will never fully be safe in this world.I want to hold my man’s hand without being asked to leave the hardware store, or the Main St. theater, or the community bank. Without being refused service by our local baker or favorite florist.I want to hold my man’s hand without people forming opinions about us because of it, without them deciding who we are in a glance. Without them wondering which one of us is the girl.I want to hold my man’s hand and not be looked at like we’re animals at the zoo. Not be stared at with wide eyes and open mouths as gawkers try to process what they’re seeing.I want to hold my man’s hand like my sister holds her husband’s, without hesitation, fearless, with no consideration that anyone would object. Because no one will.I want to hold my man’s hand because we are in love, not because we are brave. Not because we are proud. Not because we want to change the world.I want to hold my man’s hand when we walk down the street because he is my man, and I am his, and yes sometimes I want to advertise that fact, but mostly I just want to feel his hand in mine, strong and warm and steady.

Wishing you all a beautiful weekend and so much love,

Scott

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