“Are you a religious person?” she asks me.
“No, but I’m spiritual, I think,” I tell her.
“Do you believe there is some sort of higher power?”
“I guess so, yes,” I say, “though I don’t think there’s a God, per se.”
“For me, the highest power is divine love,” she shares. “Your sensitivity is a super power. You have the power to feel others’ feelings. And you’re a healer. But you don’t heal by taking on others’ feelings. You heal by being a conduit, a tube, through which divine love can flow. Love passes through you to heal others.”
I imagine myself as a macaroni or cavatappi noodle, divine love coming in through the top, and shooting out the other side.
“What you need to remember is that you have no control — none of us do. Most of the time, you just have to surrender to the greater power of divine love.”
I nod.
“Prayer is powerful, you know. There have been studies on it.”
I recreate this conversation with sentences I’ve logged in my Notes app, trying to capture her wisdom before I forget it.
***
I think of all the people in my life I want to surrender to divine love today. My heart sends out love in color to their hearts. I pray, even though I’m not religious, that divine love will cradle them as they wade through grief, anger, fear, make the landing softer, allow them to find even a small moment of peace amidst the chaos.
I visualize them in violet light, soft green light, pink light, white golden light. I let the light envelop them, protecting them like a flame, where anything that comes towards them burns up with a sizzle.
I surrender, knowing I have no control but this: to have faith that they will be okay.
Writing With Abandon 
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