In less than two weeks, Her Wings Appeared, a book that has occupied so much of my heart, mind, and creative energy, will make its way into the world. I’m excited. Delighted, actually. And every so often, I notice a little flutter of vulnerability. Will people be moved by our stories? Have I shared too much? Will this book have the impact Diana and I hope it will? Will the experiences we’ve gathered within its pages inspire others to look at their lives a little differently? And then I find myself smiling. Because what makes me feel most vulnerable is the very idea that I am vulnerable at all. It’s an interesting realization. My ego can feel vulnerable. It can feel uncertain, hopeful, excited, afraid, and a whole host of other things. It wonders what others will think, whether I’ve done enough, said enough, or perhaps said too much. But my essence? My essence isn’t vulnerable in that way. It isn’t concerned with recognition, approval, or measuring the success of what I’ve created. It knows why it’s here. To express. To create. To experience Life. And that understanding takes me back to a beautiful summer morning nearly twenty years ago. God on a Joyride! I was in the early years of my ministry, immersed in studying, researching, writing Sunday talks, and preparing classes. I’d been an avid reader and spiritual seeker since my mid-twenties, endlessly curious about consciousness, the nature of existence, and our relationship with the Divine. I loved learning, contemplating, exploring, and sharing what I was discovering. And then one morning, while riding my bicycle, something extraordinary happened. I experienced an overwhelming sense of Unity. It wasn’t simply a lovely feeling of being connected to nature or appreciating a beautiful day. It was something far more profound. For a moment, the familiar sense of being a separate person moving through the world seemed to dissolve. I felt at one with everything. There was no separation between me, the bicycle, the warm summer air, the world around me, and the Source of all Life. It was as though God, Source, the One Creative Presence, was riding the bicycle. And suddenly, the most delightful thought came to me. God on a Joyride! I loved it! There was something so wonderfully playful about the experience. Here I was, contemplating the nature of existence, and the Divine seemed to be having the time of its Life riding a bicycle on a summer morning! The experience was transcendent, yet beautifully ordinary. It reminded me of a mystical experience I’d had when I was just five years old. Another summer morning when, for reasons I couldn’t explain, I experienced something beyond my usual awareness of myself and the world. Now, decades later, that sense of Oneness had returned with remarkable clarity. And the feeling didn’t disappear when I climbed off my bicycle. The extraordinary sense of Unity, love, joy, and freedom that accompanied me on that ride has remained with me ever since. Something shifted in my understanding of myself, my ministry, and my purpose. I realized that I wasn’t here merely to study spiritual principles, understand them intellectually, or teach them to others. I was here to live them. To embody them. To allow Life to express itself through the extraordinary experience of being me. The phrase God on a Joyride became part of my ministry. I shared it in talks and inspirational memes. My music directors even wrote songs inspired by it. Eventually, I began using Life on a Joyride instead, thinking it might be easier for others to relate to without needing to understand the metaphysical philosophy behind it. But the meaning never changed. Life wasn’t simply something happening to me. Life was expressing itself as me. And why wouldn’t Life want to enjoy the ride? The Art of Being Me Over the years, I’ve come to recognize that this experience of Unity wasn’t something I needed to recreate or chase. It was an invitation to live from an awareness that had already revealed itself. And increasingly, that’s how I experience the creative process. I listen to what stirs my heart. I feel an urge to create. And then I create. Sometimes it’s a painting or a drawing. Sometimes it’s a story, a poem, or a conversation. Sometimes it’s preparing a beautiful meal, tending to my home, doing household chores, or running errands. I don’t experience creativity as something reserved for artistic pursuits. To me, it’s the very nature of being alive. There is a Creative Presence moving through all of us, inviting us to participate in the unfolding of Life. We are not separate from the creative process. We are expressions of it. And when I remember this, I find myself moving through my days with a greater sense of ease, curiosity, and joy. I listen. I act. I flow. In a relaxed and easy manner, with an open and loving heart. Not because everything in my life is easy. It certainly hasn’t been. I’ve known profound grief, heartbreak, uncertainty, fear, and disappointment. I’ve experienced the kind of challenges that change the course of a life. I’ve also known extraordinary love, beauty, laughter, wonder, and delight. And through it all, I’ve been learning to welcome the fullness of my humanity while remembering the wholeness of my being. The shadow and the light. The ego and the essence. The human and the Divine. All of it belongs. And Then Came Her Wings Appeared When Diana and I began creating Her Wings Appeared, I couldn’t have anticipated just how deeply the experience would affect me. I knew I wanted to write. I knew I wanted to create the artwork. I knew I wanted to gather women’s stories and offer something meaningful to the world. I listened to the stirring in my heart, felt the creative urge, and followed it. But as I began writing my own stories, I discovered that the creative process had something to reveal to me. I revisited experiences that had shaped my life, some of which I’d carried quietly within me for decades. And something fascinating happened. I began to recognize that many of the stories I’d told myself about those experiences were interpretations formed by a younger version of me. A child who understood life through the limited lens of her experience. A young woman trying to find her place in the world. A wife, mother, and spiritual seeker doing her best to make sense of the joys and challenges of being human. For years, I’d carried certain interpretations as though they were the absolute truth. But as I revisited those experiences through the eyes of the woman I am today, I began to see them differently. I could recognize patterns that had influenced my thinking, feelings, and choices. I could question beliefs that no longer served me. I could extend compassion to earlier versions of myself who hadn’t yet discovered what I know now. And most importantly, I could recognize that what I’d once believed was missing might never have been missing at all. There is a remarkable freedom in realizing that we can change our relationship with the past without changing a single thing that happened. I couldn’t change my experiences. But I could change the way I understood them. And as my understanding changed, so did I. Writing became another doorway into self-awareness. And the creative process became both the means of expression and the gift itself. When the Ego Wants to Come Along And now, as publication day approaches, I notice something rather amusing. My ego has decided it would like to have a say in all of this! It wonders how many people will read our book. Whether they’ll appreciate the stories. Whether they’ll understand what I’ve attempted to express. Whether they’ll find themselves within the pages. And yes, whether I’ve revealed a little too much of myself. I can feel the excitement and anticipation, along with the occasional flutter of uncertainty. And I’m okay with that. I don’t need to silence my ego, dismiss its concerns, or pretend that I don’t care what happens. Of course I care! Diana and I have poured so much love, attention, and creative… This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit herwingsappeared.substack.com
