Moving from "Observer" to "Participant

I think as a society we have placed far too much emphasis on entertainment and observation. In our quest for expressing creativity and finding connection with others via movies, stories, and music, we have lost the ability to be an active participant in how life unfolds. 

It's one thing to be an observer in this world and point out everything wrong (or 

admire everything right!), but it's quite another thing to step down and become a participant.

By participating in this world, we become conscious co-creators of the universe. I think just being an observer takes away from the power we all hold. 

"Oh that looks so fun, but that's not for me. That's for people with natural talent." We lie and tell ourselves. 

This robs us of why we came to Earth in the first place, to experience physical reality and learn. How can we learn if we're just sitting back and observing? I don't think there's a malevolent force behind this, I just think we would all benefit from going and actually doing the thing we talk about all the time. 

Why leave all the fun to someone else? Why not partake and have your own stories to tell, instead of recounting other people's?

And if you're someone who always sees wrong in the world, in politics, why don't you go and stand up for what you believe in for your community and country? 

Sure, you might not be the next governor or senator, but at least you're participating in the glory of it all. Maybe then you would have a less sinister opinion on people you see as "others." 

This week, I'm doing one thing that I've always wanted to do. I have falsely gotten the feeling that I was actively participating in something virtual. In reality, I was only watching a YouTube video of someone teaching it or actually doing it. What a trickster the digital age has been. So many people getting these pseudo experiences. 

So, let's be a part of life again! Let's be active participants!

Ashe,

Hannah

A Rule of Thumb Rhyme – The Girl and the Hexed Man

 A Rule of Thumb Rhyme – The Girl and the Hexed Man

by Hannah Janicke

There once was a man who’d woven a curse,
Dark thoughts in his mind made everything worse.
He met a girl with a radiant grace—
A blessing lived softly upon her face.

Where he held shadows, she carried light.
He moved in drear; she burned so bright.
Not to save him—but to show,
That what we plant is what will grow.

The girl who was blessed was battered and torn,
From love that was cruel and a bloodline forlorn.
He saw her as broken, a soul to redeem,
But saving her fed his own selfish dream.

The hexed man noticed her spirit was sore,
He swooped in as savior—but opened a door.
He stayed in her bed, and she kept him fed,
Unaware she was housing a spirit half-dead.

As her soul began stirring, her body fell weak,
She couldn’t find peace, she couldn’t find sleep.
Her habits grew dark, her glow slipped away,
For the price of his presence, she started to pay.

She cried out to God to send her a sign,
That night she dreamt of her own flatline.
The man in her bed was the one who had done it—
With poison and silence, not love or a sonnet.

She woke up shaking, she’d seen herself dead
And vowed to stop doubting the voice in her head.
So she ended it there—she didn’t wait one more minute.
Her soul had a limit, and she’d finally hit it.

From that final goodbye, a deep truth unfurled:
She came to this earth to awaken the world.
The moment she spoke what her intuition had guessed,
She healed not just herself, but the man who was hexed.

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