I do not wish to live a small life. I have come from the pasture, from the morning sun, where the angels rode their wing-tipped clouds and kissed me on the lips, and whispered in my ear their warning: do not live a small life. And so I told them of my promises:

When the doctor told me I had to take his pills and tests or suffer and die in misery,

I said no thanks, I don’t want a small life.

When the lawyer cautioned me against trusting in an open heart,

I said thank you, but I don’t want a small life.

When the journalists tell me their news is more important than mine, and that the world is a dangerous and evil place,

I thank them, and say no thanks, I do not want to live a small life.

When the commentators scream and shriek and dance with the people who call themselves

our leaders, I nod and close my eyes, and say thanks, but no thanks. Too small for me.

When the Dystopians prepare their fences and load their guns and stash their hoards,

for the end, I tell them I would rather leave that world and seek another, that is too small

a life for me.

When I see all of the messages of hate and anger and argument, I think of the doctor and the lawyer

and the commentators and and politicians and I invite you to share in my strange world of hope and love,

and yes, risk, so please do come. You are welcome here.

Look at me. Open up your life.