I love when my inner voice speaks to me. It is my conscience, my arbiter of wisdom and good taste. It always tells the truth, whether or not I want to hear it. My inner voice was loud and clear when I drove to the desert a few years ago, marveling at the arid landscape. The sage and mesquite gave the mountains the soft appearance of felt and velvet, with occasional points of cactus. The desert was a metaphor for my life. Everything looked soft and fuzzy on the outside, but something very sharp was trying to break through.
Excerpted from Donna Apidone’s TransForMission. Available on Amazon.