The painting evokes a dreamlike atmosphere, rendered in soft, luminous tones of gold, blue, and earthy pastels. At its center stands a stone archway, glowing with warm, otherworldly light that spills gently into the surrounding space. A solitary human figure, abstract and ethereal, approaches the threshold—neither hurried nor hesitant, but with a sense of quiet purpose.
In the foreground, a single red lily emerges from the earth, vivid against the muted ground—a symbol of life, renewal, and fragile beauty. The composition blends surrealism with impressionistic softness, creating a visual meditation on return, resurrection, and the grace of quiet beginnings. The image feels both sacred and personal—an invitation to step into light, to rise without spectacle, and to remember that even the smallest bloom can mark the start of something extraordinary.
25-4-20-S
110 ⏳ 255 🗓️ W17
RMSDJ 📖 ✍🏽
🌡️79° – 53° 🌤️
🌗 ♑ ♒
🎶 A Song That Prayed Back
This morning began with reverence. I sent forth my Easter message—a small offering stitched with meaning, accompanied by a luminous image that felt like a stained-glass whisper. Sixty-five souls in my circle received it, and the response was warm. Affirming. The kind of kindness that arrives without fanfare but leaves a scent in the room after it’s gone.
Eugenia Dillard replied with a gift of her own—a YouTube link, simple and unassuming, but behind it: a voice, a cry, a prayer. Gladys Knight’s rendition of I Know That My Redeemer Liveth wasn’t merely sung. It rose. It trembled through her silky alto and then settled somewhere unspoken—less a song than a devotion in velvet form. A sanctified hush in musical shape.
I wrote her back: It felt more like prayer than performance. Eugenia responded with one line: Exactly. No need for elaboration. When truth lands properly, it requires no echo.
I knew the days ahead might deny me my sanctuary in the Jacuzzi—maintenance or fate or some unseen inconvenience—so I carved space for it today. Water greeted me as a friend who remembers. My body moved in arcs and bounds—38 minutes of flowing resistance: sprints, bounding strides, lateral glides. The sun flirted with clouds, casting gold one moment, shadow the next.
Then came the soak—25 minutes, limbs submerged, thought suspended. Aristotle joined me via Audible, unfolding his vision of politics, virtue, and the shape of the good life. His voice through another’s voice, resonating in the space between jets and philosophy.
Back at the apartment, I broke my fast late and lavishly. Lasagna and a salmon sandwich laced with blue cheese, followed by an indecent parade of chocolates, all crowned by a black coffee symphony I’ve nearly perfected. A touch of port wine, a lift of creatine, BCAA, glucosamine, cinnamon, vanilla, stevia—and it sings. Not a drink. A ritual. A concoction of sustenance and self-regard.
No feast today of grandeur, no crowds of believers, but in the song and in the soak, I found resurrection of another kind. Something rose in me—not grand, not loud—but quietly enduring.
RMSDJ.
Easter Message: The Grace of Returning
This Easter, I find myself thinking less of hallelujahs—and more of quiet beginnings.
A flower pressing up through cold soil.
A voice calling after long silence.
A door left open—not wide, but enough.
I’ve been reflecting on how some things return not with trumpets, but with tenderness.
Not in victory, but in vulnerability.
Not everything that rises makes a sound.
Some resurrections are quiet.
They begin with a breath, a glance, a decision to try again.
This, too, is Easter.
Not just the triumph over death,
but the patience it takes to live again.
To forgive.
To reach out.
To hope where we once hardened.
True beauty lies not in what comes back unchanged,
but in what returns carrying grace.
May this season meet you gently.
May you recognize your own return in small things.
And may you know: love still rises.
It always has.
It always will.
P.S.
Questions of Value: Volume One – Foundations of Becoming will be released in two weeks. I’ve spent the past two months arduously laboring over its pages—combing scripture, philosophy, and lived questions to shape something both thoughtful and enduring. I hope it meets you where you are—and offers a light worth carrying.
RMS INSIGHTS ✍🏾 