This is How it Began
Exploring the creek near where I lived as a twelve-year-old, I found myself at a familiar spot—one I often visited with my brother or friends. But this time, I was alone. Or so I thought.
Across the water, a massive bullfrog sat at the edge of the bank. I crept toward it in my clumsy, boyish way and grabbed it—its body as large as a dinner plate. As I lifted it, the frog puffed up like a party balloon. Then, without warning, its mouth opened and released a piercing howl.
Startled and afraid I had killed it, I quickly set it down and stared. In a flash, it leapt into the creek and vanished into the murky water.
That moment planted a seed in me—a seed that would lie dormant for more than thirty years.
Years later, in the midst of inner chaos and aching sorrow, I surrendered to the stirrings within. The seed awakened, nourished by the memory of that wild, primal cry. I dove into the depths of my own being, searching for the pure, cool waters hidden below. There, I discovered a sacred current—a living thread that tethered my soul to the divine.
Eventually, I chose to let my soul howl like the frog.
