During my meditation today, I visualized the abundance of love that surrounded me with more than 800 people on the call, that I keep the focus on my recovery.

Here is a pondering thought. Love happens.

The statement above is true regardless of the love for hate, money, prestige, power, things, people, self, or whatever.

I thought the opposite of the reading because I didn’t see the people as lovely when I arrived in the recovery room. I thought they were all crazy and that I was never going back. Yet, my higher power had another plan for me because my naivety had run its course. I knew deep down that I needed help, and not only that, but I wanted the help. Something in that particular room lured me back the next day, and I continue to gravitate towards the love of light, especially since that specific room lines with numerous windows.

Many cannot deny that 2020 was a spark in the hidden lens of hate. The curse of being in society will claim that I should replicate, and if someone doesn’t like me, I should not like them. Sure, there have been a few people since that time that we have parted ways, and I don’t regret that. Still, I also know that there is something there that no one can erase what predecessors left for others. Anyone who wants to acknowledge that they belong in that room where it all started is welcome.

The whole is me deciding I want to be involved and not excluded. Again, my mind will tell me that hate seeks to capture me in its web and intertwine me into a knot so strong that the bondage is unbreakable, but that’s a lie. Yet, I know that with my higher power’s energy, no adversity is too heavy-duty because drinks and drugs will only worsen the situation. I have too many experiments that confirm this belief.

I choose love today. I want to be persistent that smiles can consistently generate adoration on faces. Despite the resistance, some things do change in spaces that at one point might have been filled with intolerance. Vibrant energy can be powerful, like a sliver of butter drizzling on a hot baked honey bun.

Hate is a choice and can permeate damage to my spirit. I see that the vulnerability of people sharing reveals the susceptibility of us all. Knowing this is to comprehend when the blame is mine to keep. I have learned to comingle in areas that might start as startling, eventually have become comfortable enough for me to stay. I decide to listen, participate, and shell those blinders of false hope. Wow. The thought feels so smooth to my soul that I plan to come back again tomorrow.

Peace and love. Feel free to share and invite others. To unsubscribe, say so. The reading is attached.

Author, Lynda M.