The Journey of Healing
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The Journey of Healing: A Return to Wholeness

Healing is not a destination, but a sacred journey. It is the slow, mysterious return to wholeness that moves through our mind, body, and spirit. True healing honors both the seen and unseen wounds, recognizing that our experiences — even the painful ones — are part of a larger unfolding.

As Rumi reminds us, “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” In this way, healing is not the erasure of pain, but the transformation of it. Our broken places become entry points for divine light, growth, and deeper love.

Healing Is a Universal Invitation

Across spiritual traditions and cultures, healing is seen not only as personal restoration but as sacred alignment with a greater force of life.
Psalm 147:3 beautifully declares, “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” In Buddhism, the Dhammapada teaches that “just as a snake sheds its skin, we must shed our past over and over again.” Healing, then, is a continual process of release and renewal — not something we master once, but something we live into, layer by layer.

Indigenous traditions echo this truth. A Lakota teaching says, “Tears are sacred. They are a sign of release, and healing always follows.” Our tears, far from being signs of weakness, are signs that the heart is clearing space for something new and whole to emerge.

Healing as a Return to Connection

When life wounds us, it often disconnects us — from ourselves, from others, from Spirit. Healing restores connection. It reminds us that we are not alone, and that the life force within us is resilient and wise.

In Traditional Chinese Medicine, healing is seen as balancing one’s internal energy with the energy of the universe. We are not isolated beings; we are fields of living energy, always responding to the world around us. “Each of us is a moving system of energy,” the tradition teaches, “and healing is about balancing that energy with the universe.”

Chief Seattle of the Duwamish tribe echoed this sacred interconnection: “The earth does not belong to us. We belong to the earth.” Healing ourselves is not separate from healing the world around us — they are threads woven into the same tapestry.

Healing Requires Compassion and Time

Modern culture often pressures us to “fix” ourselves quickly, to move on before true healing has taken root. Yet ancient wisdom tells us otherwise.

As Maza Dohta wisely said, “Healing is an art. It takes time, it takes practice. It takes love.” Just as the earth’s seasons unfold slowly and faithfully, our own healing asks for patience and gentleness. We cannot rush what must deepen.

Anne Lamott, in her simple humor, reminds us: “Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.” Rest, pause, and stillness are not signs of failure, but sacred ingredients in the healing recipe.

The Sacred Power of Community Healing

Healing is magnified in community. Being witnessed in our authenticity — in both our pain and our hope — is itself healing. Yoko Ono, speaking from the Japanese tradition of collective care, said, “Healing yourself is connected with healing others.”

When we gather, as we do here in this circle, we create a field of healing energy greater than any one of us alone. We bear witness to each other’s journeys. We hold space for Light to enter through each unique wound. We remind one another that healing is not only possible, it is inevitable when love and grace are allowed to flow.

Closing Reflection: An Ongoing Journey

Healing is not linear. Some days it will feel like progress; other days it will feel like unraveling. Both are part of the sacred work.
As the African proverb says, “When the roots are deep, there is no reason to fear the wind.”
May we trust the depth of our roots. May we honor the tears, the pauses, the breakthroughs, and the gentle unfolding.
And may we remember: the same Light that enters our wounds is the Light that guides us home.

Community as a Sacred Container
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Community as a Sacred Container: Walking Together Up the Mountain

This weekend I was asked to participate in a panel discussion about community. As I pondered the questions, I found myself reflecting more deeply than expected. And in that quiet space, it reminded me of a vision came to me many years ago—one that has stayed in my heart ever since.

I saw people walking up a great mountain. Each one came from a different path. Some had taken the long, sloping trail that offered a steady, gradual climb. Others had scaled the sharp, jagged face, every step a test of will. But when they met along the way, they paused—not to compare their routes, but to ask, “How has your journey been?”

They shared stories. They found common ground. And then, they walked together for a while—arm in arm, encouraging one another, honoring the strength and beauty of each path. When the trail split again, they parted with grace, knowing their togetherness had been sacred.

This, to me, is the essence of community. Not uniformity. Not agreement. But a shared walk for as long as our paths intertwine—a sacred container for truth, healing, and belonging.

What We’ve Lost: The Cultural Erosion of Community

To appreciate the mountain we are now climbing, we must acknowledge the valleys we’ve passed through—and the pieces we’ve left behind.

We’ve lost villages—not just the places, but the ways of being. We’ve lost shared rituals, communal meals, and multi-generational wisdom exchanges. We’ve replaced eye contact with screen time, collective care with rugged self-reliance, and sacred ceremonies with to-do lists.

“If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.”
— African proverb

We’ve privatized what once belonged to the whole: grief, celebration, parenting, aging. In our pursuit of independence, we’ve become islands—drifting farther from one another, even as we yearn to belong.

But just as trails converge, so too can hearts. What was lost can be remembered. And remembering begins by walking together again.

Why We Show Up: The Power of Sacred Presence

We don’t come to community because it’s perfect. We come because it’s true. Because in a circle, something ancient awakens. We remember who we are—not as brands, roles, or personas, but as souls. Whole and human.

“Alone, we can do so little; together, we can do so much.”
— Helen Keller

When we gather—whether in a living room, a field, or a Zoom screen—we build something more than a meeting. We build a field of trust. A place to exhale. A place to be witnessed.

We pause on the path and say, “Tell me about your climb.” And in doing so, we make the mountain easier to bear.

What I Need From Community Now: Living the Legacy

As I enter the elder chapters of my life, the climb takes on new meaning. I no longer seek community only to receive—but to give back. To share the stories the mountain has etched into me. To pass on wisdom not as doctrine, but as offering.

“When an elder dies, a library burns.”
— African proverb

I long for community that honors both the novice and the elder, the seeker and the teacher, the one rising and the one resting. I want to walk with those who are just beginning, not to guide their every step, but to walk beside them and say, “You’re not alone.”

This is legacy—not in stone monuments, but in moments of presence, truth, and tenderness passed hand to hand, heart to heart.

Digital Blessings and Sacred Boundaries

In many ways, our digital world has brought new paths into view. We can connect across continents. We can form circles that transcend time zones. We can be part of something bigger than geography.

But even in these online spaces, we must remember the soul of the mountain—the slowing down, the witnessing, the shared silence.

“Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened.”
— Dhammapada

If we’re to climb together in the digital age, let us treat even our online meetings as sacred spaces. Let us bring presence. Let us bring pause. Let us bring care.

What Holds Us Together: Seeking Common Ground

On the mountain, no one’s path is the same—but all paths matter. We climb from different directions, with different views and different stories. And yet, when we meet, we can choose compassion over comparison.

“We can find common ground only by moving to higher ground.”
— Barack Obama

We don’t have to agree on every turn of the trail. We only need to listen with respect, to hold space for one another’s truth, and to walk together when we can.

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”
— Rumi

That field is community. That field is sacred. That field is worth returning to.

Community as Ceremony: A Living Ritual

When we treat community not as a transaction, but as a ceremony, we reclaim something holy. We light candles for birthdays. We share food with reverence. We cry in circles that hold, not fix.

“A single bracelet does not jingle.”
— Congolese proverb

In doing so, we create ritual from the ordinary. We make meaning from the mundane. And we remind each other that the climb is not about the summit—it’s about the company.

Walking Each Other Home

Let this be our practice: to pause when we meet another traveler. To ask, “How has your journey been?” To walk together for a while. To share the load. To laugh, to learn, to leave kinder than we arrived.

Let us become the kind of community that holds—not because we agree on everything, but because we choose to walk with care.

Let us reclaim the mountain not as something to conquer—but as something to climb together.

Because in the end…

“I am because we are.”
— Ubuntu proverb

 

In Remembrance - Donna
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Donna Gibson
June 2, 1940 – April 13, 2025

Donna Gibson, born in Omaha, Nebraska on June 2, 1940, passed away peacefully at her daughter’s home on April 13, 2025, in Hazel Green, Alabama, surrounded by the love and care of her family. She was 84 years old.

Donna was a beloved and devoted daughter, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, sister, aunt, and friend. She was preceded in death by her parents, Edward and Dorothy Decker; her son, Kevin Helmts; and her former husbands, Norman Helmts and Bruce Atkinson.

She is survived by her loving brother Ronald Decker and sister-in-law Karen Baier; her daughter Christina “Yiska” Berry (Richard “Zev”); grandchildren Richard Berry III (Hannah), April Jones (Matthew), Rochelle Berry, Nicole Helmts, and Benjamin Helmts (Megan); and great-grandchildren Richard IV, Christopher, Lorelie, Riley, Alliya, David, Jensen, and Samuel. She also leaves behind cherished nieces and nephews, extended family members, and many dear friends whose lives she touched.

She was a student at Omaha North High School. Donna married Norman Helmts and faithfully supported his Air Force career, moving across the country before settling in Fresno, California, where her parents had relocated. She pursued studies in psychology at Fresno City College while raising their two children. Donna worked as a dietary provider at a nursing home and later as a special education teacher’s aide. She then trained in apartment management, living in Lake Tahoe, Nevada for a time before returning to Fresno to help manage family-owned apartments where she married Bruce Atkinson.

After the passing of her parents, she married Granville Kenneth Gibson and relocated to West Virginia. Donna worked in apartment cleaning until her retirement. She was a founding member of the Pocahontas County Art Guild, where her creativity shone through her award-winning paintings. Donna also volunteered with great joy at the Marlinton Senior Center.

She loved singing, playing the piano and guitar, wrote several original songs, and played for church in every community she lived in. Music was one of her lifelong joys and expressions of faith.

For the past 20 years, Donna made her home in Hazel Green, Alabama, where she continued to share her love and talents. She assisted in homeschooling her grandchildren, supported the family’s farm, continued to play piano, and remained an active painter. Her passion for animals, children, music, and art left a legacy of love, creativity, and compassion.

Donna Gibson will be deeply missed and forever remembered for her generous spirit, artistic soul, and unwavering dedication to family and community.

Friends and family are welcome to visit the family home in Hazel Green, Alabama, as they feel led to offer their love, memories, and presence during this time of remembrance. Please contact them for the best time.

In lieu of flowers or cards, please donate to Nechama Spiritual Center, 2812 Charity Lane, Hazel Green, AL 35750 or donate here:

https://donate.stripe.com/aEUdRT1yT3Ep9RS9AB

 

A Sacred Sharing from My Heart
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🌿 A Sacred Sharing from My Heart 🌿

I am surrounded by the unseen yet deeply felt presence of many kind souls—those who are quietly holding space for me as I now sit in vigil with my mother. Her spirit is nearing the gates of Home, and I walk beside her, honoring each breath, each moment, each sacred whisper of goodbye.

To all who have, are, and will hold me in your hearts during this tender passage—thank you. Your love, your prayers, your quiet presence are felt, and they hold me gently.

Grief and joy are twin sisters—inseparable, each teaching us how to feel deeply and live honestly. I am learning to let them both walk beside me, hand in hand, as I move through this holy unfolding. The grief of parting, the joy of her peace, the sorrow of endings, the mystery of new beginnings.

This is also a passage for me—a transition from being a caregiver, a role so wrapped in love and devotion, into… something else. I do not yet know the name of this next chapter. What I do know is that I wish to step into it with authenticity, with gentle freedom, with love as my compass.

I walk slowly, consciously. Open-hearted. Rooted in trust. Ready to meet whatever comes next.

Thank you for witnessing me. Thank you for walking beside me.

With reverence and grace,
Yiska

Sacred Balance: Being and Doing
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The Sacred Balance: Being and Doing in Harmony

Introduction: The Modern Imbalance

In today’s fast-paced world, we are often measured by how much we produce, how busy we are, and how fast we move. “What do you do?” is one of the first questions we ask when meeting someone. Doing has become the dominant force, while being—simply existing, observing, and connecting to our inner life—has become undervalued or forgotten.

But ancient wisdom across cultures and sacred traditions tells a different story: that the balance between being and doing is not only possible—it’s essential. When these two energies are in harmony, we live with greater clarity, joy, and purpose.

What Is Being?

Being is the art of presence. It is the quiet, receptive, inner quality of life—the part of you that watches, feels, and simply is. It’s not about passivity or avoidance, but about connecting to your essence without striving or forcing.

“Listen to the wind, it talks. Listen to the silence, it speaks.” – Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) Wisdom

Being is the place from which intuition arises, where insight, creativity, and rest are cultivated. It’s where the soul breathes.

Examples of Being:

  • Sitting in stillness or meditation

  • Watching the sunrise with no agenda

  • Journaling to reflect, not to produce

  • Practicing mindfulness during a walk or while sipping tea

  • Resting without guilt

Being refuels you. It reconnects you to your deeper self, so that whatever action you take afterward is rooted in clarity and wisdom.

What Is Doing?

Doing is the active, expressive side of life. It’s how we shape the world around us—through action, creation, service, and movement. Doing is how we bring dreams to life, build relationships, and fulfill responsibilities.

The key is conscious doing, not compulsive busyness. Sacred texts encourage action that is aligned and purposeful.

“Perform action without attachment. For performing action without attachment, one attains the Supreme.” – Bhagavad Gita 3:19

“When the prayer is concluded, disperse within the land and seek the bounty of Allah…” – Qur’an 62:10

These teachings don’t discourage doing—they call for a deeper motivation, one connected to spirit rather than ego or fear.

Examples of Doing:

  • Creating art, writing, or music

  • Tending a garden or cooking a meal

  • Starting a new project or business

  • Helping others or volunteering

  • Making clear decisions and taking steps toward goals

Doing gives shape to being—it’s how our inner vision becomes manifest in the world.

Why Balance Matters

When we over-identify with doing, we burn out. We become disconnected from our bodies, our hearts, and our deeper values. Productivity replaces presence, and life begins to feel mechanical or hollow.

When we retreat too far into being, we may become disconnected from our purpose or avoid necessary action. Inspiration needs expression. Dreams need doing.

“Sitting quietly, doing nothing, spring comes, and the grass grows by itself.” – Japanese Zen Proverb

This quote reflects a deeper truth: sometimes life unfolds best when we allow space. At other times, growth demands our participation. The art is knowing when to act and when to allow.

Finding Your Balance: A Living Practice

Balance is not a one-time decision—it’s a daily tuning. It requires listening to your body, your heart, and your spirit. Ask yourself regularly:

  • Am I constantly rushing or feeling drained?

  • Do I allow myself time to reflect, rest, and feel?

  • Am I procrastinating on action that would serve me or others?

  • Are my actions aligned with my true values?

Start small. Schedule times for stillness. Create space in your day to simply be. And when action is needed, move with intention—not from panic or pressure, but from presence.

“Be anxiously concerned with the needs of the age ye live in, and center your deliberations on its exigencies…” – Bahá’u’lláh, Bahá’í Writings

Let your being inform your doing. Let your doing serve your being.

Conclusion: A Sacred Dance

You are not a machine meant to run without pause. You are a rhythm, a breath, a sacred dance between stillness and movement. Like the tides, like the seasons, you are meant to ebb and flow.

Honor both. Rest and create. Listen and act. Be and do.

When you learn to live from this balance, your life becomes not just productive—but purposeful, present, and full of peace.