Tag: Wisdom

Never have the words white privilege rung more true than the day I saw helicopters circle a Black neighborhood and drop agents on Brown backs. All this, seen from a video tucked deep into a social media post. They were tearing families apart, but not mine. My grandchildren were safe in school, my door unknocked.…

Come close now, and listen. I’ll tell you a secret about the world. You are a bowl of water walking on two legs. More than half of you is river and tide. Your heart beats like waves, your bones hold hidden springs, your blood flows like a creek that never stops. And every tear, every…

I do the small holy things.I taste my bread like it’s the whole world, slow and grateful. I tuck a memory in a tin, a seed in a packet, a story for a grandbaby — tiny treasures that make a thousand tomorrows kinder. I watch the moon, mend the broken, hum at the window, and…

I started nursing school believing nursing was holistic—that if you tended the body, you’d be taught to hold the heart and spirit, too. But most of what I found was assembly-line medicine: blood pressure here, pills there, but no time for listening. It wasn’t until I landed in hospice that I saw what I thought…

Granny sat rocking, apron still dusted in flour, eyes fixed on the ridge where sparks flickered against the dark.“Funny thing about light,” she said, “you can see it from a dozen porches, and it still shines the same. Some’ll call it Christ, some’ll call it Goddess, some’ll call it Moon or Science. Doesn’t matter. The…

I came from a placewhere safety broke too early.The glass didn’t just crack—it shattered.And yet, from the shards,light bent,and colors poured. Science names it trauma.I call itthe making of rainbow prismsfrom broken glass. That kind of woundsharpens a body.Teaches you to noticeevery flicker,every silence.Science calls it hypervigilance.I call it intuition. They say trauma heightens interoception—the…

People think strength means stompin’ boots,a voice that rattles windows,a look that makes folks shrink back.They call hardness power—like steel’s the only thingthat can hold a world together. But that ain’t how I see it. I’ve lived enough to know differently.I’ve sharpened my tongue before,used it like a blade—and I’ve watched the cuts it left…

I’ve always known that energy never ceases to exist. We are energy, and that means none of us can truly be lost. Science calls it the law of conservation—energy can’t be created or destroyed, only changed from one form to another. The same truth whispers in the woods, sings in the garden, and settles deep…

Because energy never ceases to exist… “Child,” the granny woman begins, rocking slow, “souls are like seeds—heirloom seeds—passed down from one season to the next. When the time comes, the wind and the rain and the Great Gardener decide where that seed will fall. Maybe it’s a wide open field, maybe it’s a pot on…

A letter from the Granny Woman’s porch… Baby, I want to tell you something I wish somebody had told me long ago. When your body starts to heal—not because of a pill, or a cream, or another supplement—but because you’ve come back home to yourself, that’s not coincidence. That’s not magic. That’s truth waking up…