A Reflection on the Time We Are In

 There is a quiet gravity in this moment, a profound pause as if the world itself is drawing a deep breath before the next great unfolding. We find ourselves here, not by accident, but as part of a larger rhythm, a cadence stretching across lifetimes. We have chosen to be born into this threshold, into this aching, luminous time, when darkness presses close, not to consume us but to call us deeper into our light.

It is not the shadows that should unnerve us but our own hesitation to fully inhabit the radiance that dwells within. The compass of Love has not faltered, even if our grasp on it has grown uncertain. Seeds, too, must endure the dark embrace of the soil before they can offer themselves to the light. So too must we learn to navigate this darkness, not as a thing to be feared, but as the fertile ground from which renewal will spring.

The old prophecies whispered of such times, of deep reckonings and tender rebirths. They spoke of the eagle and the condor, long divided, soaring together once more; of rainbow warriors weaving the torn threads of the world into something whole and enduring. Yet these ancient visions did not promise an easy path. They foresaw the grief that would rise like a tide: grief for the land, the creatures, and the voiceless; grief for the friendships fractured by fear, and for the dignity discarded in the name of power.

This grief is no small thing, for it presses its weight into our hearts and fills the spaces where once there was ease. It grieves the lands scarred by greed, the creatures silenced by carelessness, and the humanity lost in the pursuit of hollow freedoms. It grieves for the ones who have forgotten their own light and, in doing so, have forsaken their part in this unfolding story. Yet grief, when honored, can become a gateway. It humbles us, softens us, and reminds us of the sacred threads that bind us to one another and to the earth.

Though the world may tremble under the weight of collapse, this is not a time to despair. Beneath the surface, something ancient and enduring stirs. We are being called to return—to the land, to the prayers that once carried us, to the songs that have always known the way. We are being asked to remember the wisdom of our ancestors, the beauty of community, and the strength that comes from living in harmony with the sacred rhythms of life.

We have the tools for this time. We have the roots of our shared humanity, deep and strong, that can anchor us amidst the storm. We have the hands that can weave beauty into broken places, the voices that can sing hope into the silence, and the hearts that can hold space for both grief and healing. We have the courage to stand in the cracks of a dying world and plant seeds for one yet to come.

This is a tender time, and yet, it is filled with the promise of renewal. The dream of a world rooted in Love and unity has not vanished; it waits for us, patient and luminous, just beyond the horizon. Even in our weariness, there is a quiet fire in our eyes—a light that knows the way, even when the path feels uncertain.

Let us hold this dream with reverence, nourishing it with every act of kindness, every moment of courage, every prayer offered to the unfolding. The darkness of now is not an end but a womb, cradling the fragile beginnings of a new dawn.

Be gentle with yourself as you walk this path, and be tender with the world as it struggles to remember its own light. Trust that Love is weaving something beautiful, even now, in the places we cannot see. The dawn is nearer than we dare to believe, and the world we long for is already on its way.

I love You,

Alma