Jane Arie Baldwin

Personal Tools for Living at the Highest Levels of You

Category: Nature

Does Love Still Conquer All?



Monday morning, I took my time waking up. I’d spent the weekend in the Sierra National Forest of northern California outdoor adventuring with my friend Corrie. As I peeled off my eye pillow and arranged the comforter on the couch I noticed Corrie standing over me. She was announcing the horrific events that took place in Vegas the night before.

The more I tried to make sense of the tragedy, the more uncertain I felt. None of the pieces fit together. The gunman didn’t fit any preconceived profile. The reason was not clear.

This feeling of uncertainty seems to be becoming more familiar, on a grand scale. Natural disasters seem compounded – hurricanes, earthquakes, one after another. Sometimes it even seems as if uncertainty is the only thing we can be certain of anymore.

If this is the age of uncertainty, how can we be sure that we are living in total freedom? How can we trust that love will conquer all?

Uncertainty is in the head. Freedom is in the heart, the seat of love. There is no uncertainty where there is love. Ask the heart. The heart knows this truth and reminds us with every pulsation, at 30, 60, 120 beats per minute, an inner reminder with every beat. Tuning into the heartbeat and the breath is the key to connecting to what is certain, to the stillness inherent in the pulse of life itself.

Winter: The thinning of the veil



Originally posted November 12, 2009

As I sit here and look out over the river, the leaves, confetti-like in their enthusiasm to jump from the trees, fall to the ground to their final sleep. Like faithful followers drinking the poison punch, leaf after leaf falls with the turning of the wind. Soon the trees will stand naked, sleeping too, in a temporary sort of daze until the warm winds come again, next year.

Winter – the “thinning of the veil,” a time when nature perfects the concept of minimalism. In the winter there is nothing blatantly grabbing your attention with a myriad of colors and wings like the flowers and insects of the other months. In the winter you have to look for it, search it out. The stillness becomes much more magnified in the winter. It magnifies and stretches and yells and screams beyond our wildest imagination — if we can hear it. We can hear it. With the passing of every age the veil grows thinner.


My grandmother carried herself with passion, determination and an acidic bitterness for life that compares to meeting a rattlesnake face to face in the mid-day heat of a Texas August afternoon. As her memory slipped away she became more complacent, happier in her daily life,if only because she could no longer remember the travails of those who trespassed against her.

The veil had thinned. As she grew closer to the end of her life, memory or no memory, worldly importances faded and she delighted more in abstract joy without the need to magnify the darknesses she perceived around her. As the veil thinned she let more light into her life. Just as the leaves jump from the trees, thus allowing more light between the branches – thinning the veil, and thinning and thinning until it is no more.

%d bloggers like this: