My feet peek out from beneath fuchsia fleece pajamas with purple polka dots. It froze last night. We’re going for climate savings, so we keep our heat down low. I wonder if it’s worth it. This small discomfort makes everything about warm and cold and puts me into survival mode, where most of Earth’s population spends their days and nights without choosing to. Does my small sacrifice help anyone?

I hear my voice call from an otherworldly place, and I listen. I used to think I was crazy, but now I trust my voices.

I used to be one of the people in the U.S. who took our plenty for granted, and I am sorry. There has never been another time like this one, where the best we can each do won’t be enough, but where together we might still stand a chance. The unification of all people into awakening seems imminent. Imminency rather than immanency is called for now if we’re to save our world and ourselves. Though… civilizations have risen and fallen before.

It’s okay to be cold. I remind myself that I’m safe. It’s going to be all right. It’s 64 degrees in here, which is warm, right? We’re happy when the days hit 64. So, all this hunkering down seems exaggerated, Dear (I know, but it hurts to be cold. I want my perfect comfort and I want it now!)

As a Gemini, I have these little conversations with myself all the time. Even within a sentence, I can correct myself 3-4 times. One editor told me that, often when I use one metaphor, I use two (It’s like this, and it’s like this). He urged me to choose one.

However, when I turn this water spigot on, pairs come pouncing out. I don’t say the same thing twice, but often I say two things at the same time.

If this entire life thing is made up, I can start from anywhere. Yet it’s all one. I’m confused, like most people who get to this place in whatever form it takes. Free will versus destiny, God’s will versus the world of illusion. My own heart beating steadily on.

My body settles down. I sip warm Irish Breakfast tea. I tell myself, “I’ve got this, I will make sure you’re warm enough.” I feel my system relax. This is not me threatening my own survival. This is just me trying to help the Earth keep her cool.

I feel like a kid again. We were often too cold back then. Shivering wasn’t scary; it was just a distraction from our play. One winter, I spent all night huddled in a ball, my blanket over my head, trying to get warm. It never occurred to me to ask my mom for another blanket until the following fall.

Dear warming planet, dear climate kids, dear truth tellers, It’s time to wake the others. Gently, but firmly, if we can. Wake them with Satyagraha, what Gandhi calls the “Truth-force,” and the “Love-force.”

I feel sluggish-sleepy after yesterday’s massive harvest and putting the garden to bed. We also got on ladders to close hard-to-latch windows and washed a few while we were at it.

Summer’s gone! Fall’s heading sidelong into winter! Tea for all! Or hot coffee if that’s what you love! Let’s sip it together and remember we all unite as children of God on an Earth that needs us to awaken and act for the good of all.

Thank you and Amen.

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