Once I met a humble New Yorker on a long train ride in the center of Thailand. He was OBSESSED with the idea of light. His face actually lit up (no pun intended) when he spoke about his journey to find this so-called light. He never really specified if he meant all this in a more literal or figurative way; but I gathered that he meant both.
He passionately placed his love of light in my mind forever.
I gave him a Book of Mormon.
Tonight I hung these lights in my bedroom and all over my basement. I realize it is not Christmas, but I needed a little more light in the space I am occupying these days, literally and figuratively. And since simply turning on all the ceiling lights and heading straight for celestial glory is feeling crass and forced; I hung a softer, more magical tent around myself.
oh, and the beautiful roses are from my beautiful sister. Because something bad happened and somehow it means I have been sent love from all directions.