“I don’t like the…” Her voice tightened so she could hardly get the last two words out, “chosen ones?”

“hmmm?”

“No I don’t.” She stomped her tiny foot and enumerated. “Those that want power can be much worse than those who have it, willing to do whatever’s required to get it.”

“But these are nonviolent people working for the good of all.” 

“Exactly. That is my issue. They may think that is so and in reality they exclude into separation all the time. They close ranks into a tight knit scarf that holds those chosen in, and those left out, out.”

“You’re just mad because you weren’t chosen.”

She paused settling as quickly as she had risen. “There are many factors for that.”

“mmm.”

“I have come to realize I do not need to be chosen to to the work the goddess puts before me to do – to the best of my ability” she held out her gnarled hands, “I know what I can and cannot do and am still willing to do what I can, when I can.” 

“And aren’t you pushing them into separation.”

“Yes and no. No, because I see their insecurities, their immense desire to be anointed, how hard they work, how exhausted they are and I feel for their ambitions – hidden or not. So human as us all.”

“And because…” 

Iza jumped in. “Because why? My judgement is that they are not her. They can never be her. And they create fear because they are filled with fear of losing her, never being her etc.”

“Who is filled with fear? Or let me ask, what are your fears?”

“Iza went into self reflection mode. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be excluded. Left out in the cold to die. Again, same fear with this movement that is so important to me.  I see the vision and I celebrate it. Their delineations of the difficulties and how to move away from or through them is so essential to the world that I want it to take root and grow.” 

Coming to her own conclusions she said, “Therefore, I must allow for each of them to do their way of things. And I will do mine.” 

Laughing, Iza looked at me wryly. “Truth be told, I don’t ever do too much and perhaps those that do so much agitate me, when I do the old comparison and lose game.” 

“Ah yes that pain creating game.”

“I have been talking to many others in the pain of fear. The anticipated pain of ‘mourning the loss of belonging.’ In advance! This is driving a layer of bitterness.” 

“Fear and bitterness, fruits of the tree of separation.”

“Yes and likely also scarcity thinking is involved, as in not enough to go around.”

“It’s hard to admit to our own fears.” 

“I know aloe. That is why I love you. You help me see how my own fear corrodes me. And then everyone around me is seen as monsters from my acidfest being thrown on them, distorting them, disfiguring them.” 

“Everybody –” aloe said slowly with a leading tone.

“Does the best the can.” They spoke in unison laughing, and hugged tenderly.

Iza went to her device to begin sorting all the thoughts kept there with her an eye to usefulness of purpose and aloe went to the shiny warm space she enjoyed. “Call anytime my love” as she vanished, slipping away to do whatever she was called to do. Iza felt the words warm her from the inside and she breathed easier.