To be holy.

Holiness is lounging in a dusty-pink robe mid-Tuesday afternoon. It's fleecy texture on your bare body beneath contrasting to your chilled, bare feet, on maple floors.

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To be sensitive.

Those sweet hearts of denial probably don’t know themselves very well yet but their dear sensitivities always wiggle their way to the surface. They always manifest. When emotion is suppressed, illness looms — physical, mental, spiritual.

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