The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil, for you are with me;
your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Psalm 23

What are green pastures when the clouds overhead are gray and the days are foggy? What are quiet waters when it feels like news bombs drop like clockwork? What does being refreshed in my soul feel like?

What is rest and coolness when you’re in a state of rage? What is calm when the noise in our heads is on blast? What is refreshment when you’re so depleted?

What is a gentle pause and moment of acceptance in the face of the reality we are in right now? What is the cost of allowing for a full deep breath when the world charges that you must have answers now? What parts of my body can I actually drop and relax?

Where is the permission to feel the heartbreak of the world without being deemed melodramatic? Where is the freedom to no longer curate and smile in spaces that make us smaller and invisible? If I’m exhausted, where have I been running, going, trying to get to?

Can I lie down and feel the ground hold me up? Can I focus on the beauty and glisten of light? Can I take care of myself or let another take care of me?

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. What do I have now that I haven’t noticed? What do I need to be complete and what does that reveal about what I value? If in my feeling of being nothing, I also lack nothing, what does it mean to see this moment as utterly important for my purpose and path that is being revealed?