Nothing Broken. Nothing to Fix. Just Forgotten Love.

Fix?
Fix says something’s wrong.
Fix assumes error.
Fix implies that what Infinite Intelligence expressed… was flawed.
But how?
How could the very source that counts the hairs on our heads
—even while we ignore it—
be mistaken?

You think People Fixing The World is noble?
Sweet-sounding? Maybe.
But listen deeper.
You can’t fix what was never broken.
You can only remember what’s been forgotten.

This world is not sick—it’s sleepwalking.
This spirit being we exist within is intentional.
Not random. Not chaotic. Not clueless.
Every expression—even the silent ones—are known by the whole.
The part of us that chooses love, and the part that forgets it.
All of it is being watched by itself.

That’s not paranoia.
That’s presence.
Infinite awareness watching through you.
Breathing through me.
And while we sit in our “free will”, pretending not to care,
the breath still keeps arriving.
Still giving. Still loving.
Even to those who mock love.

What is more sacred than breath?
What is more holy than the force giving life to your “I Am”?
And yet…
We watched a man whisper “I can’t breathe” with death in his throat…
and we still didn’t remember what matters most.

This is why I cried.
Not because I was wise.
Because I was intelligent without love.
That’s the real narcissism.
To know so much, and love so little.
To carry so much mind, and so little heart.

Love is not an idea.
It is a state of being.
It’s either happening in the moment… or it’s not.

You either feel good—or you don’t.
And let me say it clearly:
Feeling good is love.
Feeling light is love.
That’s why I only speak words that feel good.
Because I know the body is a truth meter.
And if it don’t feel good—it ain’t love.

And this is why I praise dance.

Dance is not performance. It is presence.
It is the moment the soul says, “I am here.”
It is the breath made visible.
It is laughter without sound.
It is memory returning to the muscle.
It is spirit celebrating itself without condition.

Dance is what we did before we had language.
Before we had pain.
Before we had shame.

Because trauma is rhythm interrupted.
Dance is rhythm reclaimed.

So no—we don’t fight fear.
We face it.
We feel it.
And then we free it.

Because fear isn’t your enemy.
It is the echo of a part of you asking:
“Will you still love me… even like this?”

And you must say yes.
Yes through breath.
Yes through tears.
Yes through movement.

Because anything you don’t love will keep rising—
not to punish you—
but to be held.

This is why we dance.
This is why we move.
Because the nervous system holds stories that words can’t reach.

And only love... only rhythm... only unarmored expression
can whisper safety back into the cells.

So don’t fix yourself.
Don’t fix the world.

Feel it.

Feel the sacred ache of being alive.
Then move it.
Let it spiral. Let it stomp. Let it shake loose from your spine.
Let dance be your remembering.
Let it be your offering.

Let the body become the light.
Let the rhythm carry what resistance cannot.
Let love be the drum.
And you?
You be the beat it sings.

You are not here to conquer darkness.
You are here to be so fully the light
that the darkness dissolves in your presence.

You are not here to perform love.
You are here to become it.