
A Reflection at a Threshold
This is not a political statement, nor a call to action.
It is a personal reflection offered at a moment when choice still exists, and dialogue still matters. I share it as witness, not persuasion.
It saddens me to witness how the United States—once regarded by many as a protector of freedom and an older sibling among nations—has reached a point where parts of the world now feel the need to protect themselves from our policies rather than with us.
I can disagree with policies and speak my truth about them without hatred.
I can do so while recognizing that others may sincerely support those same policies, even when I do not understand their reasons.
I choose compassion over control.
I choose care over coercion.
I can stand alongside those who are harmed or displaced by decisions being made, offering presence and support—without forcing alignment, without demanding agreement, and without trying to manage another’s path of understanding.
There is a clarity I hold firmly:
All people have the right to their own choices.
No one has the right to impose those choices upon another.
There is a solution—but it does not begin with force.
It begins with willingness.
Willingness to speak honestly.
Willingness to listen without preparing an argument.
Willingness to remember that words must come before domination.
There was a time when the world sought solutions through dialogue, however imperfect. Today, many are simply trying to protect themselves from what no longer feels like protection.
This reflection is not offered in blame.
It is offered in hope.
Hope that we remember freedom is not something exported, enforced, or defended through fear—but something lived, protected, and renewed through conscience, conversation, and respect for sovereignty.
This is not a path to freedom.
This is freedom remembered and lived.
May we choose words while words still matter.
Reader Reflection
Take a quiet moment before moving on.
You might ask yourself:
- Where in my own life am I noticing a tension between control and compassion?
- Can I hold disagreement without closing my heart—or needing to be right?
- What does freedom mean to me when it is lived, rather than defended?
- Where might dialogue still be possible, even if it feels fragile or incomplete?
- How can I honor my truth while respecting another’s right to their own path?
There is no need to answer these questions immediately.
Let them rest, unfold, and reveal what they will.
I Am Sha’Na’El’-Ka’Zira







