This morning, as my outrigger glided through the Newport Beach back bay, a familiar low vibration seeped in.

In the past, I would respond by finding something to do or someone to talk to – immediately – just to avoid confronting it.
That was the only way I knew how to get through moods like this.

Today, my first instinct was the same:
What should I do after I get out of the water?
But then I decided to just sit with it.
To let it surface so I could see it for what it really is – its shape, its color, and what it was trying to tell me.

At first, all I could see was murkiness. Fog.
I continued to wait.

Sitting with it, in it, while paddling gently along, my paddle moving soft but deep into the water—
Stroke after stroke.
In rhythm.
In waiting.

Gradually, the space cleared up before me.
What I saw was a void—empty of everything.
No texture, no color, no elements, no molecules.
Just nothingness.

What do I do with this? I asked myself.
Nothing… just let it be.

I stayed there a little longer, becoming more comfortable with the nothingness.
It carried neither light nor dark, neither positive nor negative.
Just completely open and blank.

Then a voice asked:
What do you want to create with this space?
This is your space. How would you like your life to be? What would you like to see?
You are an artist; you can create anything you want.

Okay, I whispered.

Colors began to appear—soft, gentle blues, pinks, yellows, and countless other hues, infinite in combination.

I wanted love, peace, and simply being.
A space of comfort, allowing, and freedom.
A space filled with gentleness for life, love for my children, family, friends, and a companion.
My plants came to mind—tender, green, happy.
And my home.

Then the voice seemed to say:
Now that you have this image, it’s time to set out and do what you need to do.

An artist envisions her painting—but then she must paint it.
To create with her mind, soul, and body what she sees.

Could this be action through non-action?
The non-action is being—feeling deeply what I feel in the quiet center of me.
The action is what I do, in alignment with that vision.
To create, to build, to paint.

Whether it’s a project, a friendship, or relationships with family and loved ones.
To build, to bridge, to connect—infinite ways to create.

Then I saw all the small things I could do:
Texting to invite friends.
Spending time with my kids.
Tending to my plants and garden.
Being alone, reflecting, creating art—or simply embracing whatever life brings.

I was content with this image and guidance.

I looked within again:
Is everything okay now?

No... a part of the original energy still lingered.

What can it be?
I looked deeper.

Beyond the image I’d just created, there was a dark spot.
From it came the low vibration I’d felt.

I entered that space, and it expanded.
What I saw was the other side of energy:

Trees burned to the core, standing in the darkness.
Ashes all around.
A space seemingly void of life.

From it, any kind of negative energy could emerge.
But from it, too, new sprouts of life could also grow.

A space of darkness, but also of potential.

I felt it deeply.
I did not fight it—because I realized this is part of me too.
As it exists in the universe, it exists within me.

Without it, I would never be whole.
Within it lies mystery, depth, understanding, and acceptance.

I accepted.

It’s okay.
I don’t need to run from it—because I can’t.
Just as night will always accompany day.

To reach new heights, sometimes we must go deeper down.

I found myself comfortable in this space too.
It’s okay.

If it exists in the universe, it exists within me.
It is natural.
I don’t need to be afraid.

Then I looked within again:

Balanced.
No anxiety. No forced happiness.
Just I am.

In alignment with myself, with nature, with the universe.
All is within me—and I accept all that is within me, at least to the degree that I am aware.

This is what is.
I am at peace.

Looking back, the times I’ve grown most—expanded my horizons—were when I accepted the darkness that materialized before me.
I paid attention. I asked it to reveal what was hidden:
What pain? What feelings had I repressed?

If I stayed with it long enough, it always showed me honestly.

From those moments, I grew.

And inevitably, that darkness would soften; the beauty hidden behind it would emerge and shine.

A piece of memory would return – not just its bleak parts, but the subtle love and beauty woven within.

With it, the world’s countenance changed – even if just slightly.

Over time, those small changes add up.
Gentler. More beautiful.

The shadows within me grow a little smaller each time.

I become freer, lighter, less afraid, and more alive.

Grateful…