I am troubled by what I am seeing in the news. It upsets me - and angers me. And then, I remember who I am and what this world is.

A garden, spread at our feet. As it always has been - as it ever will be

Dear ones,

I want to pause with you for a moment.

I sent out the third module of our Sacred Ache workshop yesterday, and I can feel the stillness in response—not just the usual quiet of reflection, but something deeper, heavier. A kind of stunned silence.

I think I know why. It’s just overwhelming right now.

The world feels like it’s slipping toward chaos again. It’s exhausting. It’s disorienting. The headlines keep pulling us in, as though if we just pay close enough attention, we might stop the spiral. But that’s the lie, isn’t it?

There is something in the air right now—something performative, theatrical. The spectacle demands our attention, pulling us away from what is real, what is sacred, what is lasting. And that’s the point of it. A shock and awe spectacle meant to dazzle us - and make us react. And we have and we will react. The challenge will be - reading between the gamesmanship. Watching what is really going on.

It’s only been two weeks - it feels like a hundred years of outrage.

And yet, the world itself has not changed. The trees still root deeply into the soil. The sun still spills golden light across morning fields. The quiet rhythms of breath and tide remain untouched by the manufactured storm.

There is the world—the real world, the Eden that has never been lost—and then there is the spectacle, the noise, the tempest that tries to convince us otherwise.

We are being asked to hold both.

To see the madness, yes. To acknowledge it, even as we refuse to let it colonize our inner lives. To witness the unraveling without becoming unraveled.

Can we meet this moment with clarity?

Can we step to the side—just slightly, just enough—to see the whole stage? To recognize the illusion for what it is?

Can we, even now, feel ourselves inside the garden?

Because the garden is here.

This is not about pretending everything is fine. It is about remembering what remains true no matter what:

That beauty is still waiting for you to turn toward it. That love still pulses beneath everything. That you still have the power to shape the story you tell yourself.

So this week, let’s practice seeing clearly.

Let’s notice where the noise is trying to pull us away—and let’s gently return to what is real.

I made this recording for paid subscribers to the Becoming Real Workshops but boy, I think I need to offer it to everyone - all of us need to take this quick, quiet walk into the garden of abundant offering.

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Beauty Walk - Garden of Eden Meditation

I invite you to take the Beauty Walk, not as a way to escape, but as a way to stay.
I invite you, if you’d like to share your experience of this meditation, to share it here.

And when the world feels like too much, step to the side. See the stage. Watch the performance unfold—but do not let it take you with it.

You are still here. The garden is still here.

This is what I wanted to say. I am here. With you. Inside of this world of love.
xxoo
Amy

(This photo was taken at the end of last summer - after my stroke and brain surgery. I was out walking and my husband snapped this image of me savoring the summer, the soft air, the sunset world. I felt so joyful, so alive and grateful. This image reminds me that things happen that are hard and yet, the world is beautiful and good. I am safe and not alone. Most of all, it reminds me that what is happening where I am is the only thing I can control — the only thing that I can meet. And even that, I cannot always manage. But it is all that I have and what I have is always enough. To say this more simple: All that we can do is be with what is here, right now, in front of us. And that is good enough.)