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Finding A New Way Of Being


feralfae

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Thank you for sharing that, fae. There are many who are isolated that can't change their situation, maybe they're disabled and can't get out, but many of us can do something to change our isolation. Most of us can make phone calls, send cards, request copies of sermons from church and let it be known we welcome visits, even if housebound. For those who are able to get out, involve yourself in some things! Volunteer, join a craft guild, be a friend to others, assist your neighbors, attend church, find a walking partner, etc. Some regular interaction helps!

I want to point out too, that not all "being alone" is the same as loneliness. I've lived alone for the most part of ten years and I've not only grown accustomed to it, I've learned to like my own company and value how things are in my life. Sure, it wasn't my first druthers, I'd rather have George here with me, but that is neither here nor there as that is not a part of my choices. It's enough to get out a few times a week, have some regular phone calls, go out with a friend now and then. And I have my dog and two cats, they are my immediate family. Its amazing how much a part of your routine they are and how much interaction there is with them!

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These last few days, besides walking and weights, I've been doing spot clearing of closets and shelves, sorting what to keep, what to send on to others, what to sell, what to give away. I went into the winter coat closet, where most of the coats were ones we wore in Alaska. There was Doug's jacket, hanging there. I took it off the hanger and slipped it on. It felt the same, and I smiled at the memory of Doug playing on ice in that jacket, of his conundrum about a new ruff, and his distribution of things in the pockets. And I just smiled. Little deep wells of grief, of sadness, of anger, and sometimes of regret are opening and the energy that was trapped is welling up to the surface for release. And more and more, the little spaces are filling with hope and joy. :)

I am thankful for the days of quiet I am having right now. I've been writing a lot in my journal and meditating morning and evening. I come here to the forum and read about how everyone is doing, but then I wrap my blanket around me and drift off to sit in silence a lot of the time, taking thoughts of all of you with me, but not posting much.

I seem to have social encounters pretty much every time I go to town now, and I think it is because I am radiating a different kind of energy, and people are not encountering my "stay away, I am broken and have no energy to spare" signals any longer, or at least not often. But still, I find myself seriously concentrating on the organic bananas or new crop of grapefruit if I do not want to get into a conversation. :) Things are getting done. Such things as taxes, moving light furniture, cleaning out cabinets. I am resolved to move one item a day—at least—out of the house. Whether I sell a book, send away some family thing, or toss a jar of expired food, I am clearing little spaces all around.

So, inside and outside, with the little deep wells of emotional energy, with the welcoming of happy memories, with the daily clearing of "stuff," I am shifting some of the structures of my life to bring in more Light. At least, that is the Plan. :)

namaste,

fae

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I love how you are living with your loss, fae. This comes to us as we do the grief work that has hit so many of us. Memories pop up out of nowhere just like the winter coat you slipped on that once belonged to your Doug. Sometimes we can smile and other times we slip into that awful feeling of the reality that our loved one is not with us in their physical presence.

I understand what you mean about the social encounters you are experiencing. We do radiate a different kind of energy when we begin to accept the ‘new’ normal we are living.

It is good for all of us to do some de-cluttering on a regular basis ~ for ourselves because we find that we do not need all the “stuff” we have accumulated. I tackled that task only last week when I decided that I did not need to have things on the bottom of the kitchen cabinets since I couldn’t reach them anyway! As you said, “things are getting done.”

I am doing as you are fae, reading but not posting much. I think we find ourselves in a different place and our energies are directing us to look more inward at this time.

I read posts with much empathy and only wish I had the magic words to make the pain our newly bereaved are experiencing go away. We know that we cannot do that though, don't we.

I am still so vulnerable and need encouragement and hugs.

Anne

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Dear ones, you may not feel as if you have an impact here, but trust me ~ This place would not be what it is without your precious presence here. Even when you are not posting, we can feel your loving kindness, empathy, compassion and support. I hope you all know how valued you are, and how much I treasure each and every one of you. We are all vulnerable in our brokenness, and we all need encouragement and hugs, dear Anne. I hope you can feel all of that and more whenever you come here, even if it's just to sit and read and be with the rest of us.

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Dearest Anne,

Yes, I think we are all still so vulnerable and in need of encouragement and hugs. You have been through so much, and you have such beautiful determination and courage. Yes, I still find it too painful to try to share comfort with some of the newly bereaved dear hearts here. their pain is so fresh, and the loss so very deep, and their hearts so very broken.

And while I feel my own broken heart, I also feel the gentle healing that has been happening for some time now, and I can lift my head and walk out of the house, knowing I can, once again after all this time, manage things, deal with things, solve problems, make my way in the world. I am not ready to take on any big new projects today, but I am able to sit and remember Doug with a smile, some longing, and a warm place in my heart. Yes, we are deep within, and I feel as though I am sorting and rearranging the internal structures of my being even as I do a bit to sort and rearrange the house every day.

I wish my darling Doug were here to give me hugs. I wish he were here to restore the sense of being cherished and protected. I miss his strength, certainty, and the sense of belonging that he gave to me every day. I miss his gentle thoughtfulness and his playfulness. But I am making it day by day, finding new ways of being, one day at a time.

So, dear Anne, I am sending {{{hugs}}} to you along with a "you can do it!" and hope you will send them back to me when you can. We ARE healing and we ARE getting stronger and healthier, both emotionally and physically. I think it is time to focus within, as we inventory what we have left of ourselves without Jim and Doug, and how we can put those pieces of ourselves together for this new life we are living now.

*<twinkles>*

fae

Thank you Marty. You were posting while I was writing. :)

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HUGS GIVEN! :)

You are both so inspiring! I watched a show about food hoarders last night...and of course it spilled out into the rest of their lives. I can see a touch of it in me, not like on t.v., but I tend to keep things, or put off making decisions about what to toss until there's just too much...esp. in my craft room. I got up and made myself throw two things away. Now if I could stay on track and do that every day, like fae is, maybe it'd take a while but it'd have to make a dent eventually, esp. since I don't buy things anymore.

I've noticed the quiet here from old-timers...I understand. I guess I continue to post no matter how many years it's been for me, because I want people to feel heard and understood...that was invaluable to me when my grief was fresh. Sometimes we feel there's nothing we can say that can help, and that may be true, but I think just by letting them know we're listening, it does help. There's times, though, that we just don't have the energy to give to anyone else...I think everyone here has felt that at times.

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Thank you Kay, for understanding that there are times when we don't have the energy to post here. But this is a nattering morning for me. :)

This has been an incredibly tough month, and I don't want to dwell on it, but a couple of episodes of flashbacks have come and gone, and I am trying to find a "new normal" way of being right now: one that lets me sleep better, not wake up fearful so many mornings, and one that is a way of being that can see more humor and beauty in life. The toughest part of flashbacks is that they can push me back into the fear and anxiety for days at a time.

And that is coupled with this being the month Doug left three years ago, and all the attendant robberies and slander. It is hard to not have some of that triggered as I walk through the house, open drawers, work on project files, or go outside. Doug is still all around me. But there is solace in the forest, among the trees and animals, and there is solace in the fresh snow as well.

But it has been three years, and it has been more than a year since the robberies stopped. On an intellectual level, I am pretty sure I am safe now. But in my heart, I feel incredibly vulnerable without Doug. Although I can function, work some, pay the bills, keep things in order, and take pretty good care of myself, there is the nagging feeling that it could all be turned into chaos again at any moment. That is what I am working on healing, because it is difficult to plan a future, feel safe in making plans, or to keep up much enthusiasm for life when I am not sure that there are no more shoes to drop. I think that is what makes PTSS so debilitating: it is the visceral sense that I must be on guard, think through various scenarios to be sure I have things covered. Seldom relax.

Part of this is no doubt left over from being Doug's caregiver for years, when I had to be his medical advocate, defender against impersonal hospitals, and when it truly was my job to be on guard and to have things covered, and to protect Doug from the dysfunctional medical system. Part of it is the medical issues I have had since Doug left. Part of it is being confronted with the evil of the criminals. Part of it is my own sense of diminished power and health, both of which I hope to keep restoring.

It has been more than six years since the diagnosis, and three years since Doug left. I am not sure which has been the most wounding and enervating — Doug's leaving or the aftermath. And I cannot pull them apart entirely, so I must reconcile it all somehow. I still struggle to go through his papers. I still struggle to make sense of a lot that has happened. As my trauma doc pointed out, I do not have a criminal mind to be able to understand criminals, and that is probably for the best.

Enough.

It snowed last night, and the world is a beautiful, pristine white this morning. We are in for a week of cold, with temperatures in the low teens. Even the fresh snow brings memories of sliding across a lake in Fairbanks, making it to the frozen island, and falling backwards to make snow angels all around the island between the black spruce trees. Then we walked back home and had hot cocoa before we went out to work on the ice towers.

My hair, which is now to my waist, is being cut Friday. I hope to go in and look at some possible cuts today, and see if I can pick out a style that will work with my very thick and curly hair. Probably something that is pretty short.

I feel as though I am still marking days, but at least I am putting plans in place so that I have times to look forward to enjoying. I am planning some birding trips, probably intertwined with research work, and I must go up to Medicine Hat about the chemistry of my new porcelain clay, so I can make glazes to fit the clay body.

I have realized that a lot of my nattering helps me to restore some "normal" to my life. This morning has been a challenge, as I think of all the things of the day that Doug is not here to share, and as I accept that I am now doing this life alone, solo, and that I must keep moving toward a life that brings more joy, satisfaction, and sense of purpose.

I think after we have been caregivers for so long, our sense of purpose gets very habituated to caring for our Beloved, and we lose a lot of the other pieces of our personal identity, now that our reason for being has left. I am learning that this shift to a new way of seeing myself interacting with the world is a slow shift, and the process is both gradual and intermittent. Some days I feel fairly well adjusted. Some days, I wonder if I will make it through the day. And I have been pushing myself to sort things, to more forward with my life, to "take charge" in some way. But many days, I am not ready to do more than float on the currents of time and life, hoping to have more energy tomorrow.

It has been three years now. Three years ago, I would have hoped, wished, and thought that I would be back to the "old me" by now. But there is no more "old me". So this is not only an adjustment to losing Doug and our life together, but also an adjustment to losing the me who used to live in this body. And the body has changed a lot as well. Life has changed all around me and within me. And I am not sure what has changed the most: the world, or my perception of it.

(It is snowing heavily right now.)

We are here around this healing fire, each of us drawn here by some measure of Grace, sharing our pain and loss. We help each other to go on, and we help each other to find a new way of being. I wish it were easier for us. I wish we did not have these times of deep sorrow and echoing emptiness in our hearts. I wish there were healing words that worked as fast as magic. But, no. This time is a gift in so many ways, as we come to know ourselves better, as we step into the fullness of being human, and learn new lessons on letting go, holding on, and finding balance. Pulling back from the world lets me ponder, meditate, sort, rethink, and slowly gather up the bits and pieces for this new life.

We slowly pick up the pieces. We tentatively reach out toward life again, and perhaps we move in and out of life, in and out of the cocoon of grief, and eventually find enough balance to go on. But this, for me, remains a time of rebuilding, restoring, reshaping—and Oh! the wonder of discovering!—who I am becoming now. I wish it were easier. I wish Doug were here to share it with me, give feedback, mirror who I am becoming, smile at me and let me know things will get better soon.

I am going out for a walk through our little forest soon. I am going to go out and walk in the cold and the snow, and remember my wonderful husband, and thank G*d for our years together, and pray for peace and beauty for us all.

namaste,

fae

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Reading Anne's post about what she is going through and your post about what you are going through, fae...I think over the things I've been through and it's incredible. I know what PTSS is, I've been there...I don't think it ever leaves you, but most of the time it's taken a back burner (now) although there was a time I was in the thick of it. Criminal thinking is all about what is in it for them, not thinking of consequences or considering what they're doing to others...you're right, we are not criminals and cannot think like them, it's a whole different mindset. It's a very distorted thinking and many of them do not seem to have consciences or feel guilt. Something happens to us when we've been treated thus, it changes us forever, how we look at things, our feeling of safety...it can be restored but oh it takes time and effort, just like our grief journey has taught us! I can tell you I felt that way when at the hands of a monster (my first husband) that I barely escaped from with my life. I can tell you I felt that way when my second husband and I divorced (the father of my kids) and he betrayed me so horribly, stealing away my church and friends and taking me financially, emotionally, and in every way. I learned so much through what I went through...that I am not what others think of me, I am still me, I am who I am, and who God knows me to be. And I went through it when I suffered betrayal at the hands of my fourth husband who conned and used me with no regard to what it did to me, financially devastating me for life. It astonishes me that there are people out there that claim to love you, only to destroy, use, manipulate, and abuse you! Who I am left standing is a pillar of strength, a survivor, a person who won't let them beat me down, someone who can now live on my own, and I refuse to let them change or beat down who I am as a person. I know you to be the same, fae.

On a lighter note...we are soon to have snow, although I hope it doesn't get in the teens...I don't want any problems with pipes like I went through last year! I look forward to the beauty though. For the most part, we have been gypped out of winter this year, the first year ever, here. I am not complaining though, anyone back east would gladly trade places with us! My lilac tree has buds on it and it will freeze, so I probably won't get lilacs this year. :( My apples either. But we badly need snow in the mountains so I hope the higher elevations, especially, get it. The poor ski resort really welcomes it!

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I just wrote a long post, went away for a moment and it was gone. I will try to start again.

I wanted to say that I am one of the old gang who has been quiet lately. It's partly because I've had my daughter and her two littlies staying for half term, partly because I can't think of anything helpful to say to new grievers, because when I stop rushing about trying to fill my time up with activity I am still just as lost, still just as lonely and still just as sad. I know I'm doing well really. And I think Pete is proud of me. And I'm very aware of the extra struggles that Anne and Fae are going through or have gone through. Anyway I'm reading even if I'm not posting much and I am getting comfort. I think most of you will have seen this posting on facebook from Grief Speaks Out but it really sounds like me. Her name is Jan too!

Finish this sentence: As time goes by grieving gets...

As time goes by grieving gets harder and easier. It is easier in that I have learned skills to make me be alive with grief. I no longer collapse into tears often and I have more happy and productive moments. I have more gratitude for still being alive. Every day I have spent living without you leads to the day when either we will be together again or I will not know we are separated. Grieving gets harder because I am exhausted with waking up every day and missing you. I still have times when my motivation and my ability to find comfort seem to have disappeared and it is all I can do to breathe. I feel a little guilty for feeling this way after more than five and a half years. Then I remember that many grieving people I know feel the same way and I always tell them to accept themselves where they are and I should do the same. Grieving makes it hard for me to tell the difference between the times when I am doing the best I can and times when I am using my loneliness without my husband as an excuse for withdrawing from love and life instead of reaching out to be part of it. xo

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Jan, Good to hear from you. I miss the interaction from some of the oldies...not calling you old, heh heh! :) I'm glad you've had your littlies and daughter with you. I miss my kids being around! My son's too far away and my daughter always busy in her world. I'll get to see her briefly in March though, looking forward to that.

To me, grief is definitely a whole lot more doable than it was at first when I was shocked and my world turned upsidedown. That felt unbearable! I'm more used to doing my "life without" now, but you're so right, the missing goes on and on. It never stops. I've just learned to get more used to it, as used to it as one can. I hold on to the fact that we'll be together again...if I didn't have that hope, that faith, I don't know how I'd deal with it.

You know you needn't feel guilty about how you're feeling, we don't even need to tell you...hold the same understanding for yourself that you have for all of us here, just a reminder! :) Even in those down times, you're still doing your best. There are times we need to withdraw, it's like a self-protective state, drawing into a cocoon, but then we need to make effort to get out amongst the living for a bit too! You'll know when you need either.

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Dear Jan and Kay,

As I read your posts, all I can do is nod in agreement. I still wake almost every morning with the immediate sense that Doug is not here, that I am alone, and that things are out of my control. I think about Doug and feel lonely and sad, then I begin to work on adjusting my mind toward happier thoughts and good memories. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it does not.

I went in to town yesterday to help out at the Holter. It was a pretty quiet day,which was good, because I really did not have much energy. By the time I got home yesterday early evening, I was exhausted and ready to take a nap.

Reading your words about grieving, Jan, I nodded. It is easier now, three years later, and I can function a lot better with day to day life, and spend time with people without breaking into tears or feeling the need to go hide. The missing is still very strong, and I think that will get better once I am able to clear out more of the house and Doug's shop so that the memories don't flow so fast and thick when I open his closet, or go out to his workbench. I am trying to be conscious of holding on to the good memories while letting go of anything that is part of the trauma. I have not talked with many people about all that happened, so some of them are confused that I still pull away if the talk turns to certain subjects. But I don't want to talk about it any more. I want to let it shrivel on the vine and fall to the ground. I don't want to preserve any of it. I would be happy if my memories of Doug simply ended with his leaving, and all that happened after would simply dissolve into forgetfulness.

I am tempted to call some of you who have walked this path with me for these last years. I am never sure when it a good time, so I think I will find out. It would be good to hear your voices more often. Sometimes, emails are just not enough. :)

I am not going to meeting this morning. It has been a busy week, and I am going to stay home today, rest, and do a few things around here. Jan, you are probably asleep by now. Kay, I may try to reach you later. Anne, I know where to find you.

I am looking at a photo of the poppies Doug and I planted which grew and bloomed in 2004. It was our happy field of poppies, and the next year, we had developed another flower garden as well. I hope we will all feel happy and ambitious enough to plant some flowers this spring. I am going to try. With the sun coming back, I am reminded of how we would sit at the dining room table and make lists of spring projects for this place and Alaska. I am inspired to make a list today of things I want to get done around here this month that I can reasonably do.

Thank you Jan for sharing what is going on in your life right now. I, too, feel that I am in waiting for some reunion. Meanwhile, I keep working on ways to be happier and stronger while I am here.

Kay, you said it so very well,"There are times we need to withdraw, it's like a self-protective state, drawing into a cocoon, but then we need to make effort to get out amongst the living for a bit too! You'll know when you need either." about finding a new balance for how we move from our times of needing to be alone to needing to be out with people. This is certainly a cocoon day for me. But I am going to make some lists, which will be helpful for getting some things done this month, while I am in between recovery and being able to do more.

*<twinkles>*

fae

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Marty said it so well, " Even when you are not posting, we can feel your loving kindness, empathy, compassion and support."

This I believe. Even though, we are all in different places and we know that this is a place we can pop in and out and find the same comfort and understanding we were shown in our early grief.

We are indeed a "tribe" who looks after the whole person. Thank you, fae, for twinkles, a circle of fire, and for the label of "tribe". It fits so perfectly.

If anyone told me that grief was this exhausting I would have been very discouraged. Now I understand the significance of taking one day at a time. I am working on focusing on the present rather than worrying about tomorrow.

I am finding joy in so many small things like the warmth of the sun, a flower blooming, a good song, the virtual hugs we all give to one another, a phone call from a friend who isn't in a hurry to say goodbye, and so many other things too numerous to list.

Today I say the names of our loved ones as a reminder that they are with us ~ Bill, George, Doug, Pete, Jane, Mary (Butch's loved one), Mike, Larry, my Jim, and all the other spouses /significant others who have gone before us. There is not a day that goes by that I do not say Jim's name.

A beautiful person, Darcie Sims, whose death anniversary was celebrated on the 27th said, "I do not say thank you anymore rather I say "I Love You" for life is too short. That is how I feel about this Tribe. I do not thank you for all your kind words ~ rather, I say I love You.

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fae,

Call me any time, I am home from church now.

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Dear tribe

It's early morning here in England. It's very cold though not by some folks' standards but the spring will be here and although every year since my Pete died I have tried to keep our little garden alive this year I feel a different and better interest in doing so. Whenever I get these good feelings I alwasy ascribe it to Pete inside my head and heart. It doesnt matter if this is true. It's true for me. I ordered all purpose compost from Amazon because going to our local hardware store for it and not being able to lift it makes me sad because it was always so easy for Pete. The people at the shop would always do it for me but it's the pang of sadness and being alone which I can't bear and so I avoid it whenever I can. But I'm going to clear out troughs and pots and plant some new things if I keep my health and strength. It's Mother's Day soon and I've just decided to give my daughter a treat by sending her money to have a massage and for a baby sitter whilst she does. She is a mother and she is struggling. The girls are very difficult sometimes and she is a single mother. I sometimes feel I should up sticks and go and live near her but it would be a huge huge sacrifice for me to leave our home and she would never expect me to. So I do what I can.

I'm still very involved in the campaign to stop the visitor centre in our little village. It keeps me busy, as does some proof reading I'm doing. I try to feel gratitude daily. I've just completed an on line meditation course, which has been good. I read your posts and feel such closeness to you. I feel our hearts connecting. We oldies, still here, still posting, and some of us helping the newer grievers, are such a bunch of friends. Thank you for being here. And an especial thanks to Marty. X

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Hello dear Jan,

I am so glad that you are going to begin your gardening again this year. What will you put in? Will your littles be helping you?

I am sure your daughter will love her Mother's Day gift. I have scheduled a facial for me for the first time. I am looking forward to it.

It is very hard to read about all of our new grievers. My heart reaches out to each one of them. I think Kay mentioned earlier how helpful the forum was for her during her early days of grief and I feel the same. Having our grief validated is so important to our healing.

I try to read all posts and respond when I can. I love that some of us "oldies" are still around our fire.

Anne

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Believe me, dear ones, this place would not be the same without our "oldies" still around our fire. Whatever support you've found here, with your continuing presence you are paying it forward in so many different ways. With your experience, your knowledge, your faith, your compassion and your wisdom, you are teaching all of us how to walk this path, guiding us along the way, and giving us hope for the future.

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Jan,

I'm glad you are showing interest in resuming gardening! Here, everything has started to bud...and then we started freezing at night again, sometime in the low 20s, so am not sure whether I'll have flowers or apples this year or not. It's just been strange weather this year.

I feel George is with me in spirit too, and that comforts and encourages me. I don't think it strange at all that you feel Pete with you. It doesn't matter if others think it real or not, it's our reality. :)

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Busy day here, but as I was reading the above comments, I just wanted to reach out and hug each of you. And give you some Maya Gold.

{{{{{HUGS}}}}}

*<twinkles>*
fae

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I was just thinking about the Maya Gold yesterday, so funny you should mention it! We'll gladly take the hugs! :)

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A hug :)

THE LIGHTEST TOUCH

Good poetry begins with
the lightest touch,
a breeze arriving from nowhere,
a whispered healing arrival,
a word in your ear,
a settling into things,
then like a hand in the dark
it arrests your whole body,
steeling you for revelation.

In the silence that follows
a great line
you can feel Lazarus
deep inside
even the laziest, most deathly afraid
part of you,
lift up his hands and walk toward the light.

- David Whyte
from
Everything is Waiting for You and River Flow: New & Selected Poems
©2003 Many Rivers Press

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Yes, and I think we can find some great line, whether in a poem or a book, from a friend's words, or anywhere, that wakes us deep inside and sends us toward the Light.

I delight in finding those great lines these days. :)

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