You can’t make up this stuff. One day, a few Septembers ago, when I worked a couple days a week behind the desk of an RV Park, where I was often amazed and puzzled, saddened or simply weary of the things people said to me (captive as I was) I jotted down their remarks as soon as they turned to leave; opening statement only. Without finishing the conversations than ensued, you get the gist. Without filter or embellishment, this represents a couple hours of what filled the page, each line a different guest: I don’t mean to complain but you
Marianne Williamson said, years ago on a Hay House Cruise, that until we clear out the clutter in our lives, metaphorically and literally, we can’t make room for anything new. It’s a simple thing, really, but our ego often refuses to put down some of the unnecessary or even harmful things we carry, preventing us from opening the gate. The gate to what?