Appreciation and deep witness are beautiful gateways for returning to our most authentic selves.

May the words that I speak remind others that they are beloved.

Death is a regular part of my job, which makes small talk weird for me at parties.

Holy Reconciler, help us make peace with each other.

I wasn’t really “born this way.” I grew this way.

We don’t need to understand why someone sets a boundary to respect it.

Praise be for our connection. Help us to learn from each other.

Spirit of Life who dwells before and between and beyond all words… we open ourselves to you.

I miss the way things were, and I know they’ll never really be the same.

A lot of us feel like our lives should have come with instructions. Or maybe they did, but we lost the only copy a long time ago.

We have so many opportunities to bless each other in this world, but they don’t always announce themselves as moments of profound transformation.

What could you accomplish this week if you knew you had a ground team wishing you well? Who are the other explorers around you, needing a word of encouragement that would mean so much coming from you?

My soul nudged me from a hiding place to confess and to seek forgiveness, and only through the grace of the Great Mystery of Life unfolding around us did I receive the blessing of journeying with a beloved, grieving friend.

Black people are so accustomed to being ignored and invisible that a simple acknowledgement—a simple I see you—from a peer goes a long way.

If a friend were in my situation, I would have seen their failings as human. So why hold someone to an unforgiving standard just because that someone is me?

Remembering is the art of holding a memory and sharing it; it’s drawing upon that memory so it can help us to grow into people who live lives of meaning and service. As a practice, remembering connects us deeply to each other and to the love that sustains us.