The voice greeted me gently that morning. Not with urgency. Not with alarm.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

It didn’t ignore the disappointment — the realization that more therapy might be needed, that the cancer story wasn’t finished yet. There was no rush to fix it. Just the reminder: This too shall pass. You will heal.

Then the truth surfaced plainly, without drama.

All good things come when I return to the same three acts:
Write. Pray. Surrender.

Not as a formula. As a posture.

Writing is the act of showing up prepared. Notebook open. Pen ready. Willing to listen. It’s how I meet whatever wants to move through me. Not forcing. Not performing. Just present.

Prayer is connection. Not begging. Not bargaining. Just conversation. I’ve prayed from desperation before — on my knees, asking why, asking for rescue. I’ve learned that kind of prayer keeps me locked in lack. Gratitude opens a different channel. A quieter one.

Prayer doesn’t require religion. It only requires attention. Call the source whatever you want — God, the Universe, the I Am. What matters is opening the line and listening.

And then there is surrender.

Surrender to the process.
Surrender to the source.
Surrender to the idea that I don’t have to be the author of everything — only the instrument.

I let the presence move through me. I let it guide the pen.

As one teacher said, we’re not the writer — we’re the instrument. Another put it even more simply: be ready to take notes.

That’s what I’m doing now.

—

Alignment Before Outcome — Gentle Reflection

Notice where effort has crept in where presence would be enough.

What would it feel like to show up today not to fix, prove, or manifest — but simply to listen?

You don’t need the right words.
You don’t need certainty.
You only need to stay.