Fear & unity - on abandoned US small towns

I feel a deep resonance today with the themes of fear and unity. Yesterday, we wandered into an abandoned town in Northern California, surrounded by the towering beauty of the redwood forest. The stark contrast struck me—shattered windows and collapsed roofs against the majesty of ancient trees. We met people whose lives have been scarred by drug addiction, their worn faces and missing teeth telling silent stories of struggle. As I greeted them and began conversations, I felt a quiet fear arise—a fear of the unknown, of unpredictability. It was as though the land itself held both the beauty of creation and the wounds of disconnection.

This experience stirred an old fear rooted in my cultural upbringing. Growing up in China felt like living under a strict and watchful father—drugs were untouchable, their existence whispered but never truly understood. That ingrained fear surfaced here, as if meeting a shadow I had avoided for years. Witnessing this pain—the brokenness of my human brothers and sisters—tugged at my heart, leaving behind a sadness that feels hard to process.

Under this Gemini full moon, duality has come to light. The dream I hold of building an off-grid sanctuary, a village woven with food forests and unity, feels at odds with the stark realities of poverty, addiction, and separation I’ve seen on this journey. The work of bringing this vision into the world feels heavy, a dance between hope and despair. Yet, I know the path forward calls for strength, for faith, for holding compassion even in the face of brokenness.

In this delicate balance, I remind myself: we are one. We are all expressions of the divine. And in that oneness, we evolve together with Mother Earth.