Thank you, Marianne. We live blocks from the evacuation zone in Pasadena. That first night the winds which had gusted up to 86 mph were supposed to get even ferocious from 10pm to 5am. Instead, they miraculously calmed and, at least in our area, never got worse. I have friends who lost everything. We came too close for comfort. But you're right about the love here. People around the country that despise us for some reason despite us subsidizing dozens of states are staying ridiculous things at a heartbreaking time. But no matter. The love you speak of is real.
California does NOT subsidize anybody. California received $500 billion dollars in covid relief money from the federal government and now the state is somehow $50 billion dollars in debt.
Some individuals in California are net Providers, but the "Economy" is entirely Debt Based now, so in order to have the "Economy" grow, debt has to grow.
California is number 1 in making debt grow.
Which is what makes California a Blue State. More people getting Free Stuff than there are people making the Free Stuff to be doled out.
Everybody loves Los Angeles for it's entertainment value. And there's the amazing Mexican fruit cup vendors every other block on Wilshire Blvd.
Such a wide array of misinformation. California pays more in Federal taxes than it receives. We would be the 5th largest economy in the world if we were our own nation. How is it that your here on Marianne's thread with your aversion to all the things she stands for?
The most important thing to Marianne Williamson is her relationship with God. She's connected with the most powerful force in the universe. Which makes her, prima facie, the best candidate. Though I can't explain exactly why. Spiritual ideations, circumstances, goals and manifestations are supernatural and beyond comprehension.
She's a different kind of dirt, to use a prospector's expression.
Your statements regarding the California economy are absurd. California is a big money laundering operation for The Fed (The Banksters). All the federal Treasury "revenue" from California you refer to is capital value extracted from the Middle Class or fake money being put through the washing machine so The Banksters can ultimately convert the fake money into hard assets for themselves. In other words, The Fed are selling you (us) a bill of goods. The Middle Class is shrinking and more wealth has been transferred to the 0.0001% over the past four years than at any time in human history.
This is the prayer I needed to see so I can repeat it.
I have been constantly heartened during this heartbreaking time by the amount of people on my Instagram stories who are collecting donations and posting how to help. So many people are rising up at this time to come together for the people who have lost everything.
Your part is voting for low iq democrats and blaming their failures on climate change. Bad immigration policy? It’s cause of climate change. Long Covid? Climate change. Fire destroys your city because there is no water, must be climate change.
I grew up in LA and totally get what you are saying, Marianne. The theme of my 2025 photo calendar is "Awakening to Apocalypse: An Opportunity"...with the context statement: Be frightened not! “Apocalypse” does not mean doom. Its origin is Greek, meaning revelation, unveiling, taking the lid off. As the lid comes off, we see what’s been hidden and realize that reality is much more than we
thought. Like the The Truman
Story movie, except the hiding
has been done not be a mad TV
producer but rather our own selves, our own fears. Truly an
awakening…and an opportunity, if we choose to take it, to work with
one another to co-create a new world based on love and peace, a new beginning, even as the old world crumbles around us. And, as prophesied, these are the times.
Your words- your prayers are light and hope and the truth, because you have dug deeply and continue to show others how to reach more deeply. You are a treasure to our hearts!
I appreciate how Marianne can bring words of hope and comfort in a time of tragedy such as this. I especially was encouraged by this sentence: I have no doubt that the City of Angels will now grow more wings. Thank you , Marianne, for always being there for all of us!
May we be lucky enough that you become DNC chair so you can get humanity to deal with a radical new way where humanitarian ends supersede economic ones. All your ideas about universal health care and other such radical re-dos of systems that don’t serve all the people will get spotlighted, to where we have to be willing to make radical changes like massive taxes to provide massive services, where being happy supersedes the idea of being rich. You are the only public figure who can sell humanity on the massive re-do we need, where nothing less will help us avert otherwise apocalyptic ends.
I also love Los Angeles and the feeling it gives me when I’m back to what was home for over 20 years. But for the city/regionto come back as you suggest will require new political leadership that puts constituents first and honestly tackles the underlying problems that create myriad crises front and center (inability to manage wildfires, homelessness, crime, etc). It will require moving away from virtue signaling and incompetence of current leadership to hard nosed, realistic and competent leadership that’s not coming from corrupt one party rule.
Thank you, Marianne! I too lived in LA during the 80’s and my daughter and many dear friends are still there. I pray for the safety of all! We need to rise together and make a difference…. Reach out and help! Sending prayers that the fires seize soon…. Sending love ❤️🕯️🕉️☮️🙏❤️
I wrote this at 4 AM last night [01.16.25]. I haven’t been able to fall asleep until 7 AM these past few days. I can feel my spirit rushing through me. When I hit my head a few weeks ago, something shifted—an emotional breakthrough poured out of me for an entire week. It happened over Christmas, unfortunately, but within a day or two of hitting my head, 'Puck' emerged. It’s as if he finally let himself out, and the fire that followed made him very angry...
My Bridge
My bridge—the place I’ve always found the most comfort in, my home and sanctuary. Its waters are luscious, its rapids golden. The rocks guide the water as it rips through it's vast canyon. Moving as if three winters had melted off the mountains all at once. The wood holding the bridge together is rugged—smooth and soft in places, but beaten down where determined hands gripped it with little care on their way into the woods. The aged planks will dig into your skin if you’re not careful—I would know; my skin still carries the tattered scars it left in me. But this bridge is strong and ancient, older than my time, and I can’t imagine a world where I can no longer use it—or worse, the next kid from my town who stumbles upon it, will have no way to cross it.
I was blessed with full access to the bridge. I admired its intricate engravings and grew calloused from playing on its ancient planks as a child. From cave paintings to amateur graffiti, the bridge is clearly well-traveled. Few from my town ever make it there, and those who do are usually focused on reaching the woods beyond. But this bridge was a rare refuge for me, a place I could add to history and feel seen by the past and the future.
I wonder who knows this bridge as I do—who feels the rich air rush through them when they pause to breathe deeply upon it or feel its rare sunlight kiss their soul at just the right moment. The beauty of this bridge is that it’s always open. Its river is never guarded—no tolls to pay, no riddles to solve—just a long, grueling hike to reach it and an endless world beyond.
The hike tears at your heels, leaving blisters, and if you slip, it will scrape your skin with gravel that embeds itself underneath. It takes grit and determination to find the bridge, especially because the base offers calm places to stay and easier paths to follow. If you’re not careful, you’ll get trapped in the mountain’s mud, clinging to you like the smell of track marks in a Nevada gas station gambler’s drawers. Most stumble upon the bridge and skip over it, drawn to the allure of the woods beyond. But I found it to be my refuge.
If you can reach the bridge—mud, blisters, and bruises in tow—you can cross into a vast forest of valleys and peaks. There, people will house you, feed you, and help you navigate your journey. The trails are well-trodden, blazed for centuries, and stretch endlessly into the wilderness.
Living just a short hike from the bridge, it became an essential part of my exploration. As a child, I was warned never to go beyond the bridge and to return before nightfall, lest I risk being mauled by bears. But I was stubborn and ventured into the woods anyway. Eventually, my parents gave up trying to stop me. They let me explore the woods, and I began to see the bridge for what it truly was: my gateway to the world beyond.
As I grew distant from this bridge of my youth, I found myself deep in the woods, lost and confused.
Their Bridge
Wandering for days, I felt the world around me change. The trees withered and dried, their brittle forms breaking under the weight of time. The familiar dirt beneath my feet turned into a cold, unyielding sidewalk. The air grew heavy with the acrid smells of burning tires, smoldering wood, and suffocating smog—pungent and overwhelming. Harsh and unrelenting gray and black smoke choked the atmosphere. Each breath I took was painful, and no souls appeared to help guide me home.
Eventually, the smoke softened into a dense smog. In the distance, the roar of thousands of cars filled the air, their rapid pace echoing through the haze. Murky air enveloped me, but through it, I realized I had reached a new bridge. A bridge I had never crossed before—endless, barren, unfamiliar.
Thank you, Marianne. We live blocks from the evacuation zone in Pasadena. That first night the winds which had gusted up to 86 mph were supposed to get even ferocious from 10pm to 5am. Instead, they miraculously calmed and, at least in our area, never got worse. I have friends who lost everything. We came too close for comfort. But you're right about the love here. People around the country that despise us for some reason despite us subsidizing dozens of states are staying ridiculous things at a heartbreaking time. But no matter. The love you speak of is real.
California does NOT subsidize anybody. California received $500 billion dollars in covid relief money from the federal government and now the state is somehow $50 billion dollars in debt.
Some individuals in California are net Providers, but the "Economy" is entirely Debt Based now, so in order to have the "Economy" grow, debt has to grow.
California is number 1 in making debt grow.
Which is what makes California a Blue State. More people getting Free Stuff than there are people making the Free Stuff to be doled out.
Everybody loves Los Angeles for it's entertainment value. And there's the amazing Mexican fruit cup vendors every other block on Wilshire Blvd.
Such a wide array of misinformation. California pays more in Federal taxes than it receives. We would be the 5th largest economy in the world if we were our own nation. How is it that your here on Marianne's thread with your aversion to all the things she stands for?
The most important thing to Marianne Williamson is her relationship with God. She's connected with the most powerful force in the universe. Which makes her, prima facie, the best candidate. Though I can't explain exactly why. Spiritual ideations, circumstances, goals and manifestations are supernatural and beyond comprehension.
She's a different kind of dirt, to use a prospector's expression.
Your statements regarding the California economy are absurd. California is a big money laundering operation for The Fed (The Banksters). All the federal Treasury "revenue" from California you refer to is capital value extracted from the Middle Class or fake money being put through the washing machine so The Banksters can ultimately convert the fake money into hard assets for themselves. In other words, The Fed are selling you (us) a bill of goods. The Middle Class is shrinking and more wealth has been transferred to the 0.0001% over the past four years than at any time in human history.
This is the prayer I needed to see so I can repeat it.
I have been constantly heartened during this heartbreaking time by the amount of people on my Instagram stories who are collecting donations and posting how to help. So many people are rising up at this time to come together for the people who have lost everything.
We caused this disaster and until we acknowledge our parts in bringing it about we will see more disasters. Thank you for the prayer.
Your part is voting for low iq democrats and blaming their failures on climate change. Bad immigration policy? It’s cause of climate change. Long Covid? Climate change. Fire destroys your city because there is no water, must be climate change.
Look inward, You’re the problem.
I grew up in LA and totally get what you are saying, Marianne. The theme of my 2025 photo calendar is "Awakening to Apocalypse: An Opportunity"...with the context statement: Be frightened not! “Apocalypse” does not mean doom. Its origin is Greek, meaning revelation, unveiling, taking the lid off. As the lid comes off, we see what’s been hidden and realize that reality is much more than we
thought. Like the The Truman
Story movie, except the hiding
has been done not be a mad TV
producer but rather our own selves, our own fears. Truly an
awakening…and an opportunity, if we choose to take it, to work with
one another to co-create a new world based on love and peace, a new beginning, even as the old world crumbles around us. And, as prophesied, these are the times.
Thank you Marianne Williamson!
Your words- your prayers are light and hope and the truth, because you have dug deeply and continue to show others how to reach more deeply. You are a treasure to our hearts!
Thank you for your words of comfort, consciousness and renewal.
I appreciate how Marianne can bring words of hope and comfort in a time of tragedy such as this. I especially was encouraged by this sentence: I have no doubt that the City of Angels will now grow more wings. Thank you , Marianne, for always being there for all of us!
May we be lucky enough that you become DNC chair so you can get humanity to deal with a radical new way where humanitarian ends supersede economic ones. All your ideas about universal health care and other such radical re-dos of systems that don’t serve all the people will get spotlighted, to where we have to be willing to make radical changes like massive taxes to provide massive services, where being happy supersedes the idea of being rich. You are the only public figure who can sell humanity on the massive re-do we need, where nothing less will help us avert otherwise apocalyptic ends.
I also love Los Angeles and the feeling it gives me when I’m back to what was home for over 20 years. But for the city/regionto come back as you suggest will require new political leadership that puts constituents first and honestly tackles the underlying problems that create myriad crises front and center (inability to manage wildfires, homelessness, crime, etc). It will require moving away from virtue signaling and incompetence of current leadership to hard nosed, realistic and competent leadership that’s not coming from corrupt one party rule.
Thank you, Marianne! I too lived in LA during the 80’s and my daughter and many dear friends are still there. I pray for the safety of all! We need to rise together and make a difference…. Reach out and help! Sending prayers that the fires seize soon…. Sending love ❤️🕯️🕉️☮️🙏❤️
Meet 'PUCK'
I wrote this at 4 AM last night [01.16.25]. I haven’t been able to fall asleep until 7 AM these past few days. I can feel my spirit rushing through me. When I hit my head a few weeks ago, something shifted—an emotional breakthrough poured out of me for an entire week. It happened over Christmas, unfortunately, but within a day or two of hitting my head, 'Puck' emerged. It’s as if he finally let himself out, and the fire that followed made him very angry...
My Bridge
My bridge—the place I’ve always found the most comfort in, my home and sanctuary. Its waters are luscious, its rapids golden. The rocks guide the water as it rips through it's vast canyon. Moving as if three winters had melted off the mountains all at once. The wood holding the bridge together is rugged—smooth and soft in places, but beaten down where determined hands gripped it with little care on their way into the woods. The aged planks will dig into your skin if you’re not careful—I would know; my skin still carries the tattered scars it left in me. But this bridge is strong and ancient, older than my time, and I can’t imagine a world where I can no longer use it—or worse, the next kid from my town who stumbles upon it, will have no way to cross it.
I was blessed with full access to the bridge. I admired its intricate engravings and grew calloused from playing on its ancient planks as a child. From cave paintings to amateur graffiti, the bridge is clearly well-traveled. Few from my town ever make it there, and those who do are usually focused on reaching the woods beyond. But this bridge was a rare refuge for me, a place I could add to history and feel seen by the past and the future.
I wonder who knows this bridge as I do—who feels the rich air rush through them when they pause to breathe deeply upon it or feel its rare sunlight kiss their soul at just the right moment. The beauty of this bridge is that it’s always open. Its river is never guarded—no tolls to pay, no riddles to solve—just a long, grueling hike to reach it and an endless world beyond.
The hike tears at your heels, leaving blisters, and if you slip, it will scrape your skin with gravel that embeds itself underneath. It takes grit and determination to find the bridge, especially because the base offers calm places to stay and easier paths to follow. If you’re not careful, you’ll get trapped in the mountain’s mud, clinging to you like the smell of track marks in a Nevada gas station gambler’s drawers. Most stumble upon the bridge and skip over it, drawn to the allure of the woods beyond. But I found it to be my refuge.
If you can reach the bridge—mud, blisters, and bruises in tow—you can cross into a vast forest of valleys and peaks. There, people will house you, feed you, and help you navigate your journey. The trails are well-trodden, blazed for centuries, and stretch endlessly into the wilderness.
Living just a short hike from the bridge, it became an essential part of my exploration. As a child, I was warned never to go beyond the bridge and to return before nightfall, lest I risk being mauled by bears. But I was stubborn and ventured into the woods anyway. Eventually, my parents gave up trying to stop me. They let me explore the woods, and I began to see the bridge for what it truly was: my gateway to the world beyond.
As I grew distant from this bridge of my youth, I found myself deep in the woods, lost and confused.
Their Bridge
Wandering for days, I felt the world around me change. The trees withered and dried, their brittle forms breaking under the weight of time. The familiar dirt beneath my feet turned into a cold, unyielding sidewalk. The air grew heavy with the acrid smells of burning tires, smoldering wood, and suffocating smog—pungent and overwhelming. Harsh and unrelenting gray and black smoke choked the atmosphere. Each breath I took was painful, and no souls appeared to help guide me home.
Eventually, the smoke softened into a dense smog. In the distance, the roar of thousands of cars filled the air, their rapid pace echoing through the haze. Murky air enveloped me, but through it, I realized I had reached a new bridge. A bridge I had never crossed before—endless, barren, unfamiliar.
... artsbax.com
The City of Angels is surrounded by them. They have the whole of LA's population wrapped in their broad, feathered wings.
And there is money to rebuild LA.
It can. It must. It WILL. 💟🌈🦋
💔 ❤ ❤ ❤ 🙏
Thank you for your beautiful words, Marianne. 🩵🙏🏼
Amen
Amen!