I’ve been using AI as a creative partner; it helps me with research, organization, and finding my words. So, when I read a post warning that chat histories might appear on Google, that old familiar rush of fear rose up — the reflex that says, “You’ve done something wrong. You’ll be shamed. You should hide.”
But almost as quickly, something new rose up in me. I realized: No. I don’t want to live this way. I haven’t done anything wrong. My voice is safe. My words are mine.
It isn’t the first time fear has tried to run the show in my life — but again and again, I’ve been shown another way.
There was a time when I worked closely with a spiritual teacher I loved deeply. She was warm and wise, but as her health declined, fear became the atmosphere around her. I had to measure every word, follow strict guidelines, and eventually, my body gave way under the strain. After an auto accident and a stress-induced cardiomyopathy (broken heart syndrome), I realized I couldn’t stay. For years, the story of that ending lived in me like a wound. And then one day, without effort, the weight simply lifted. What remained was love, and the fire she had taught me to stand in.
Then in early 2023, my body called me back again — this time through severe inflammation that left me barely able to walk. I was working for someone whose gifts as a healer didn’t extend to their business practices, and once more I found myself trying to manage an environment built on stress. My body said “No,” louder than before. And finally, I listened.
Recently, a friend chose distance, moving away from our long-standing closeness. In the past, this would have haunted me; I’d have collapsed into self-blame, believing I had done something wrong. But this time, I knew better. My love and respect for her remain, but I refused to carry fear that wasn’t mine to hold.
Each of these moments taught me the same lesson: fear contracts, but love expands. Fear collapses the body, love opens it. Fear chains us to the past, but love rewrites the story — not by erasing what happened, but by loosening its hold on us.
The void created by losing my teacher, my job, and the closeness of a friend remains — but so does the love. It is that unconditional love, the vessel of our wholeness, the sacred body that carries the Soul.
Lifting the Veil
What if the curtain were to lift and we remembered who we really are? What if we saw that everything is energy? Trees, flowers, rocks — even a fearful or joyful human — all the same river, simply vibrating at different tempos.
Form is the costume. Energy is the dancer. And at the heart of it all: love. As Nikola Tesla said, Peace can only come as a natural consequence of universal enlightenment.
Love is the frequency that rewrites the story. It is the expansion that turns wounds into wisdom, endings into release, bodies into messengers of truth. Love doesn’t deny fear, it transforms it.
This is the fine line I walk: staying aware of the world’s pain without collapsing into it, honoring my own past without carrying it like a wet blanket. Trusting that the body, the chakras, the breath, the oils, the sound — all are allies in balancing my emotions and bringing me back to center.
So I whisper this to myself, and maybe it will steady you too:
I am not in trouble.
I have not done wrong.
My voice is safe, my words are mine.
I choose freedom over fear,
Love over worry.