There once was a boy traveling down a road toward a city he had longed to reach.
Along his path he noticed a shining object lying just off to the side of the road. Curious, he knelt down and picked it up. Much to his surprise, the object stopped shining the moment it touched his hands. Instead, he was greeted with what appeared to be the image of an eye.

The boy sat for a while, turning the strange object over in his hands, wondering what it meant. Before he realized it, the sun had retreated for the evening. Now the object showed nothing at all. Frustrated by the distraction, the boy tossed it aside and began setting up camp—he couldn’t continue forward without light.

The object quickly became an afterthought.

He rummaged through his belongings, gathering what he needed to build a fire. If he was going to remain there for the night, he at least wanted to be comfortable. As the fire grew, the discarded object—resting only a few feet away—began to shine again. Startled, the boy reached for it once more. And again, the eye appeared.

In that moment, he realized the truth:
he was seeing a reflection of himself.
And in that realization, he found comfort.

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Greetings, my fellow readers and light workers. I’ve taken time away due to the passing of a loved one, but I am grateful to be writing again. Today, I want to speak on a concept I call “the fractured.”

We live in a world where our external circumstances often mirror what we hold internally. This does not mean we can control everything around us, but rather that we do control how we respond to it. Life is a tapestry woven from choices—yes and no. Sometimes our perspective becomes fractured, and when that happens, we can find ourselves lost either in darkness or in light.

But we were created as beings of both spirit and nature.
To live fully, we must learn to navigate both.

When we become overly fixated on one side—too spiritual to be grounded or too grounded to be spiritual—we lose sight of the gift we carry. Sometimes we even discard the very thing we need most. Yet because of grace, the truth never fully leaves us. As long as we are willing to choose it, the gift remains. Power is given to us to choose; we do not choose to be powerful.

For this reason, we must always remain aware—of ourselves on the inside, and of the people we have around us. Only then do we start to see what God has in store for us. Only then do we begin to truly live.

Many among us feel fractured.
But instead of seeing those pieces as a mess, I invite you to see each fragment for what it is:
a unique part of the whole.

Each piece is meaningful.
Each piece is necessary.
Without them, you are only partially yourself.

Some are blessed to begin whole and remain whole. Even if that is not your story, it does not make you lesser. Sometimes, seeing life in pieces is exactly what teaches us the truth—that the picture is far bigger than ourselves.

So I ask you:
Will you begin picking up your pieces today?