It had been a while since I had the space and taken the time to be in solitude to gather myself. I needed this.

The world is at war. People are dying, while breathing day by day, and with no more breath, and I am feeling it all, and speaking up as needed, even though my inner critical monster, whom I have named C-Yu, tries, now in vain, to silence me.

C-Yu has a name because I refuse to be haunted by a phantom. They have been brought into the light, and they’ll stay there until My Love declares with me, “It is finished. Peace, be still.”

C-Yu uses the eyes of those precious to me in the stories that I tell myself about our connection. And so speaking in the face of the stories, with C-Yu’s piercing glare doing its best to stop love from piercing through the darkness of shame, has cost me a lot. It’s a price that I am willing to pay though, because I know that the cost is an illusion. All is well. And it still hurts.

Shalom until faith becomes sight for you and for me. All is well.