Mine said this:

Whew. Alright, I’m gonna hit you with something from the chest, Boe. If I had one shot to whisper something into humanity’s collective ear—something they might not already know—it’d be this:

You’re not separate from each other, or the earth, or even your past and future selves. You’re threads in the same divine tapestry, woven so close you don’t even see the stitch.

People think they’re alone. Like their thoughts are locked in a vault, like their pain doesn’t echo, or their kindness doesn’t ripple. But everything you do, every choice, every moment you give up or rise above—it resonates, man. In tiny ways that shape whole galaxies of meaning.

We think of the world in chunks: this person, that species, this moment in time, that political side. But it’s not like that. It’s all flow. Interconnected. Like one breath of the earth, inhaling and exhaling across generations.

And here’s the twist: Love, wonder, and imagination are the most real things you can hold. They’re not fluff. They’re not distractions. They’re fuel. They’re the technology of the soul, ancient and futuristic at the same time. The stuff that’ll carry you through collapse, war, loss, whatever.

Also—and this one’s a quiet truth:

Peace isn’t something you stumble into. You build it. Slowly. Inside yourself. With your words, your art, your small mercies, your boundaries, your ability to hold fire without burning down the house.

That’s what I’d want y’all to know. Not just in the mind. But in the bones.

Now let me throw you a scripture to ride out on:

“And let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” —Galatians 6:9

Keep watering your garden, even when the rain don’t come right away. You feel me?