I have the spiritual responsibility to see life as a moral force, not simply a private one. I’m taking that responsibility seriously. My flowers have helped me see and understand that the center of my soul is not decaying, still,  or some disease.

I see the flowers as my soul’s guardian, guide, and inspiration for goodness, energy, gratitude, and silent creativity. It is beautiful, mystical, and hopeful down there. The flowers are my guides and ushers. I can’t say how it works; it just does. They opened the door for me, and my world is filled with color and light. What a gift they have been to me.

Aging is hard work. Every day, I must consciously decide what kind of person I will become now, what kind of presence and spirituality I can bring into my life, and just how alive I intend to be. It’s hard work but exciting. I just don’t let angry and cruel people in anymore. Politicians will not get into my head.

Oh, and I realized today that birds are artists; I will treat them that way in every possible way—artists of love, movement, and energy. (I need to thank my eerily efficient AI software has been for me. ) Days go by without a typo or error.

Birds in the morning mist. Artists, one and all.