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Ah, the 20's.... Or as I say, the decade from hell. The 30's were about pulling myself up off the floor, dusting myself off and looking around to see where I needed to go.The 40's were about finally taking a deep breath and realizing that not only did I survive, but I was starting to thrive, and everthing after that has been a continuous spiral into the internal Universe of myself and my union with the Divine. But the 20's. I sporatically kept journals, and when I happen to run across them and read them I can't believe the suffering I experienced. But.. The seeds of my wisdom were there as well. Sometimes the wise things I wrote floor me, so I felt the blueprint, but the time since has been about connecting them and weaving them into the tapestry that is who I am and always have been. I feel like at birth we are given a box of beautiful threads and our life is about making them into a tapestry that tells our story in an artful way. When I was 5 I wanted to be a doctor, but I didn't like blood or guts particulary, so I decided pretty young that what I really wanted to be was a witch doctor. No blood. And I think I have done a pretty good job at manifesting that desire. I think the suffering of the 20's were instrumental in creating the beautiful weaving that I am at the tender age of 71. I would change nothing. It has all been essential on my journey.

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Mixed emotions about my twenties. I still cringe when I think of some of the things I’ve done, but I’m also beyond grateful for her bravery. A young girl leaving small town Georgia for big San Fran and her dog. She was awesome, cool, fearless and at times completely foolish. I wish I had the same experience as John to send her the love she desperately needed.

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Love this, Elise.

I’m reading it from the place, that is not home, where I spent my 20s. Which I don’t have a visceral negative reaction to anymore, not like I used to.

I’m in a hotel room in Paris, in the neighborhood I lived in for 13 years. My husband is on a work trip, I’m tagging along to see his parents, my in-laws.

I thought I couldn’t be bothered to go walk the streets. That I would have much rather stay in bed this morning with a cup of tea, reading, before joining the octogenarians for lunch.

But you’ve thrown me a bone, and I realize I must go to see my old self and send her love.

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Oooh, this is a lovely post, Elise. Thank you.

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This is so relatable, thank you. Last night I just read that very same anecdote about Rabbi Zusya in Parker Palmer's book, "Let your life speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation." It's a beautiful book, but I appreciate the synchronicity.

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Calling ❤️

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Beautiful, thanks for sharing!

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What a beautiful and well-timed post. Your art always speaks to me! I often see certain creatures during hard times, and I feel it deep inside: YOU ARE GOING TO BE OK. I think of Laura Lynn Jackson and her suggestion that loved ones from beyond cross over to get your attention. But the idea that the loved one is ME, time-swerving, really speaks to me. I do not feel connected with any who have passed. Time is very likely non-linear, and our first love should be ourselves.

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Oh wow, thank you for writing this. You managed to articulate beautifully things I’ve been exploring in my mind this week. Exactly what I needed to read at this moment.

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