Module Five: You are the blessing. You are the spell. You are the radiant one.
A conversation at Art Café
Listen to my recording of this module here.
Before we begin, a quick review:
We have traveled far together.
In Module Two, we explored the Grace Field—and made the shift from condemnation to blessing. We turned toward the stories we tell, and what happens when we begin to release them.
In Module Three, we faced the unbearable, and asked: What if I gave this to God? Not to bypass it, but to let it be held — and blessed. Not to sanctify pain. Not to dismiss injustice. But to say: I am not abandoning this. I am staying with it—because Love stays, and I am staying with Love.
In Module Four, we named the ache behind so much of our suffering. The thought that “This shouldn’t be happening.” It’s the root of our never-ending argument with reality. And it’s exhausting. We shifted our focus from resistance to blessing and, feeling less overwhelmed and afraid, we brought ourselves and the world back to balance.
There’s a deep logic here that must be understood. We’ve been circling it from the beginning: Blessing is an act of inclusion. It says, “I include you in the good.”
because I know that everything is already blessed. Even if I can’t imagine why or how.
because everything that exists is an expression of Love moving through form. It is not mine to judge, condemn, exclude, or punish.
because when I do not bless this, I am the one who suffers.
There is a higher order at work in the world than my preference or comfort. I don’t need to understand it. I don’t need to eradicate it. I don’t need to turn it into a problem to be solved.
Everything is its own sovereign being. I don’t need to change it to fit my liking.
It simply is. It belongs to itself.
If this is here—it is here with me. And I am here with it.
Because it is included in the good. Even if I don’t understand it.
And so, Module Five begins from there . . .
with a conversation at Art Café
My friend and I were sharing a table by the window on a beautiful, blue-sky afternoon. But she was feeling out of sorts. Nothing was going right, she told me. Getting here was hard. Parking was hard. In fact, the whole week had been hard.
A phone call to a doctor, an insurance claim—too damn hard.
Why don’t customer service people listen any more? She groused. Why does my serious medical condition go unnoticed? She was frustrated and quietly fuming—Why is life like this?
Naturally, my first impulse was to cheer her up. But before I opened my mouth, I felt a tug - a deeper instinct. Wait. Listen. I felt called - by my love for her, by something that was rising between us. Called to just sit - to stay and let myself feel with her.
And as we sat, I could feel it. She was sorting it all out. She’d always been good at solutions. The feelings were coming from a deeper place.
“I’m sorry to be like this,” she said. “All I’ve done is complain . . .”
“It doesn’t feel like complaining,” I said. “It feels like . . .” I paused. Then, “I don’t want to make you cry here in a public place,” I said. “But I think all this prickliness feels like … well, like you need care. You need attention. Like a cranky child who doesn’t need scolding—they need a hug.”
“You’re right,” she sighed. And I watched her whole body relax. Her shoulders softened. Her face opened. What felt tight began to widen. Quiet grace began to move. A soft light filtered in. Flowing and warm.
As she softened, I felt my own body ease—and soften, too.
We did hug then. And the moment was a revelation: this is blessing.
Not a thing I gave her. Not a spiritual performance of my (cough, cough) enormous intuitive prowess. Just a friend talking with a friend.
Blessing isn’t complicated. It’s just love, unrestricted by judgment. Simple friendship. It’s time and attention.
At its simplest: blessing is what happens when we stop thinking and start noticing. When, without a plan or agenda, without a goal, we listen for the opening where love wants to flow. Love will find the way - and it will show us if we pay attention.
Mary Oliver never called herself a spiritual teacher. But she practiced the most ancient kind of blessing: attentiveness. She walked through the woods and named things. She noticed what others ignored. And in naming, she included:
“I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention.”
That’s what this work is really about.
Blessing as attention. Blessing as inclusion.
Blessing as letting love see love’s self through our eyes.
You’ve Come Into This World With Something to Offer . . .
Not your talent—though talent is a portal.
Not a task like “cure cancer” or “be a teacher.”
What you bring is simpler—and more profound.
It’s you. Your presence.
The radiance that emanates from you just by being here.
That radiance moves outward—whether you're at the office, in the grocery store, on a train, in traffic. It fills both physical and imaginal space.
Radiance isn’t something you do. It’s who you are. It shows itself no matter what mood you’re in. When you are cranky or closed, that is what radiates. When you are joyful or present, you radiate that.
So what makes radiance a blessing?
Just one thing: deliberateness.
Blessing is radiance—offered freely, without resistance. It happens when you stop bracing against life. When you soften your eyes. When you remember the truth of your belonging.
To bless something—or someone—is to include them in the wholeness of a world held in love. Not to like them. Not to agree with them. Not even to feel loving toward them.
This isn’t about being more loving.
It’s about discerning the difference between preference and principle.
It’s about being able to hold seeming opposites in your heart at the same time. Allowing them to BOTH be there.
To be wide and deep enough to disagree with someone—and still include them in the wholeness of the good. To realize: I abhor what I’m seeing on the news—but it is still part of this world. And so, though I don’t understand it, it belongs. Even when it hurts.
This is the Grace Field in action.
We touched it in Module Two—that vast, coherent reality pulsing just behind the veil of the visible. A field that doesn’t respond to control—but to recognition.
It is not neutral. It is kind. It is alive. It is always listening. And it is always responding—to everything. Including you. This is the deeper implication of the teaching—something new, and ancient:
The world responds to you.
So, it matters what you do.
But it matters even more what you radiate.
You are part of this world—a node of radiance, shining inside the field that connects everything to everything else.
You Are a Spell
You don’t just cast a spell.
You are the spell—a living enchantment, calling coherence into form.
Your presence is not passive. It ripples.
It has always rippled.
Since the day you were born.
Like a lighthouse sweeping light across the sea.
Like a flower blooming open in a garden, unaware of the animals and passersby who are quietly healed by your scent.
Like an apple tree, offering fruit to whomever comes. No striving. No withholding.
You simply offer.
The apple tree makes apples.
The flower opens its petals.
The lighthouse turns.
And so you shine—whether or not anyone sees.
A note from my own life
Lately, a new impulse has taken hold of me—one I didn’t plan, but which feels deeply guided.
I want to make a vintage shop. A place filled with beautiful, found things. Old things. Useful things. Things that carry soul. It’s the same feeling I have when I step into my garden in the early morning light. That unmistakable sense of coming back to life.
The warmth of sunlight on skin. The weight of copper in my hands. The difference between polyester and silk beneath my fingertips. The scent of rain-wet soil, loamy and alive, waking the cells of my body.
This is blessing, too.
Not the lofty kind that floats above—but the grounded kind that rises from the earth. That says yes to the body. Yes to beauty. Yes to form. That recognizes even a blue bowl or a linen sheet set as a prayer.
Why do I tell you this?
Because I’ve been curled on a sofa, staring into a screen for a year—and with one turn of the wheel, I am moving again. What was still, unmoving is flowing again.
I tell you this because nothing is fixed in place.
We can shift—in an instant—from stuckness and complaint to flow and blessing.
The truth is - even when we feel stuck we are changing, moving.
The flow never stops flowing. Even when I was staring out the window, watching - movement was moving me. And I was always, even in my stillest moments, radiant.
Glowing. Sharing my blessing with the world. So are you. Every moment.
Here are four (soft) principles of blessing.
I offer these not as rules but as recognitions—glimpses of a deeper order that reveals itself over time, through presence and practice.
Blessing begins with perception.
What you are willing to see—fully, clearly, without distortion—is already being blessed. The gaze itself becomes a healing force.Blessing moves from within the field.
You are not outside the world you bless. You are embedded within it. Awake. Responsive. You bless with the world, not at it.Blessing does not look away.
To bless is to stay in the presence of what is beautiful and broken. To say: Even this. Especially this.Blessing activates the field.
Your presence shapes the resonance. The world responds to coherence. When you speak from within your truth, the field moves. Something aligns.
A Living Practice
Try one of these today. Not to succeed—but to enter the conversation.
Bless without words.
Sit by the window or at the breakfast table or your desk at work.
Say nothing. Do nothing. Let the simple gift of your presence bless.
Extra credit: Listen for the blessing of the space around you.
Notice what blesses you back.
The quality of the air. The hawk overhead. The song from someone else’s radio that reminds you of who you are.
This is the field saying: I see you. You matter to me.
Let yourself be the one.
Even when you don’t feel ready. Even without credentials. Even now.
You are already the one who sees where blessing is needed.
You are already the one being invited to bless.
Listen for the opening—the invitation to bless.
It might arrive as a visit from a cranky friend.
It might show up as an ache in your back or a weakness in your ankle—calling you to slow down and rest.
And it might even be—oh, wouldn’t that be marvelous—this very module.
Not inspiring you, but frustrating you.
Not soothing, but disappointing.
Maybe you thought:
I expected more than this.
I wanted a clear three-step process I could use.
I hoped this program would heal my heart.
Oh, beloved. These, too, are invitations to bless.
Not to bless me. Not to bless the program.
But to bless yourself—right here, in the ache of unmet expectation.
Let these questions guide you:
What did you hope you would receive?
What kind of answer were you looking for?
What medicine were you longing for to heal your heart?
Now… pause.
What do you already know that might begin to answer these calls?
Come inside with me now.
Take the risk of letting your own deep wisdom appear.
Let it rise like a lighthouse beam, scanning the wide sea within you.
Let it open like a blossom in the center of your chest.
Look up—and see it: a single star, brightening in the night sky.
Its radiance spilling directly over your head, illuminating this truth:
You are the one.
If you were the one who blesses, what would you tell yourself now?
If you were the medicine, and knew just where to place yourself, where would you go?
You know what you need. Name it. Honestly. Even if only to yourself.
The way I named my friend’s need for care.
What blessing is calling your name?
Give it to yourself now.
And then, like a lighthouse,
give it to the world.
Final Blessing
This is not an obligation. It’s an invitation. An honor being offered to you: There is something that needs your attention. By offering it, you bless.
You are not becoming holy. You are uncovering the holiness that was never lost.
So walk gently now. Trust: You don’t need a map. You are the map and the traveler.
You don’t need a boat. You are the boat and the captain. You are the one who calls the wind to fill the sails.
You don’t need to understand this. You are already doing it.
You don’t have to explain it. Only let yourself flow with it.
Look at this world you have made.
See it shining from every surface, every particle.
This is the medicine.
Soften. Let it hear you.
Feel it respond.
With love—
Amy
What Comes Next
A new series begins this summer:
See the World as It Actually Is (Not as You Imagine It to Be)
We’ll explore how perception is shaped—and how to see clearly through overlays of fear, fantasy, and cultural conditioning.
We’ll dream together, exploring symbols and the metaphors that influence our thinking - for better or worse. We’ll talk about language, clarity, and sacred realism.
We’ll talk about prayer and spells and how to recognize the moment when your words begin to carry blessing (or condemnation) outward.
Come if you’re ready to see beneath the curtains of illusion. Come to bless - and truly see the world as it actually is.
The series will be offered freely.
Paid subscribers will receive an audio recording of my voice, reading and reflecting on each module.
Love this post. As always it resonates deeply. Thank you.
Feeling blessed. And grateful. Swirling it back to you…