I sense a new thing. But how often can I sense it, before it's not new anymore? I sensed a new thing last year. I sensed a new thing the year before. Since the year 2000, when Y2K struck, when 9/11 was still an emergency number, I've sensed a new thing.

Every year feeling a new thing doesn't make sense, does it? When is it the time when that new thing is really a shelf item being dusted off? Maybe that is what I'm sensing? I'm dusting off the new things since 2000, sensing their cumulation. 

So, what were those new things?

In 2000, I noticed time started to go faster, changes raced weekly. The let down of Y2K may have acted as a spur. Then 9/11 hit and the world stopped for about three minutes. We paused, assessed unity, but rather quickly proceeded to go again. Then the iPhone but not before the Blackberry and flip-phones; how quickly we forgot them.

What happened spiritually since 2000? That is really the new thing I'm sensing.

The Presence arrived easier, quicker; I noticed it as "new" then. When I called upon Heavenly Parent, a Presence impressed itself immediately upon the seat next to me. That was definitely a new thing, a new opening, a new relatability, a new God-share thing. Then at one point, around 2010, I thought propitiously to myself that "everything I touch will turn to gold," as if the forces of good harvest prompted me.

Each new thing acts like a prompt, not like an item on a shelf, but like an ask. It's a new ask. God is asking through every new thing to do the new thing. Don't just sense it. Each new prompt from heaven that has settled into my mind and practiced inside my body, cumulatively, has produced an orderliness in me. A sense of order. Peace. Control. 

Retirement was a new thing last year. It prompted me to write the book in me. I've been following that prompt for the past 68 days here at Florence Lake, Alaska. I am departing soon. I will not be here by the time fall colors shed the summer's green birch leaves, turning gold as I write this.

The new thing right now is the beginning of autumn. Yes, in Alaska, Autumn has already arrived. It is my favorite time of year. I'm liking the air, moist with harvest; the winds, blustery with change; the prompts, heavy with invitation.

The new thing today is but the seasons' cycle. Each year, it arrives new, prompting me to do the next thing.


10:42 AM, September 12, 2026, Saturday