The seasons speak to us. Each year as winter fades away, dead things grow again. That means I can grow again. That means that just because my creative spirit has been cold and frozen in the past, and it's felt impossible to flourish, that season can come to an end and new life can grow. An ancient one once spoke of "beauty from the ashes" and "joy from the mourning"... There's hope in every winter of the spring coming

This deception in our consciousness seems to come in the moments of choice between settling for the status quo of the empire or choosing to revolt and release the renaissance in your spirit requiring sacrifice and discomfort. In this moment there's a false deity attempting to gain your allegiance and its name is comfort... It's comfortable not to do things that matter that could shake up the foundations of societies norms and bring an earthquake of retribution from those who use their power to oppress and neutralize your renaissance potential.

MLK said only love can overcome hate the way only light can overcome darkness... but is that true. Do we really believe that, or is that just another meme we scroll past with a nod as we continue our search for something that gives meaning to us.