The Union of Saints takes inspiration from many traditions, but in a special way, it echoes the quiet, radical spirit of the Quakers.

Cowdrey herself lived on Quaker Ridge Road for many years, unaware of the spiritual history right beside her. It was not until a simple bike ride that she came upon an old Quaker meetinghouse. Drawn to its humble beauty, she began to visit with friends. They would slip into the quiet wooden pews and pray, letting the silence hold them. She learned that in earlier days, Quaker men and women sat on separate sides, but together they built communities of great strength—communities that still endure.

One day, while visiting the old Quaker meetinghouse on Quaker ridge, Cowdrey met one of the keepers of the house. He invited her to a special gathering—a lunch on the hill with snacks, and warm conversation. She went, and what she found was more than food; it was laughter and fellowship. In the shared silence of their meetings, where one may speak if moved by the Spirit but need not, she felt a sweetness, a healing presence. It was not performance, nor pressure, but the comfort of friends and the honoring of God.

The Quakers connect us to the past, not only through their preserved meetinghouses and old books still resting on the shelves, but through the radical vision they carried. They were rebels of their time—missionaries, sailors, and seekers of freedom. They resisted the structures that bound them, longing to be free in Spirit. They were abolitionists, proclaimers of equality, and supporters of women long before their time. In many Quaker households, men cared for children while women sailed to distant shores, preaching their word and building friendships across oceans.

For the Union of Saints, this legacy is a guide. The Quakers remind us that spiritual union is not about hierarchy, but about presence. It is not about noise, but about listening. It is not about locking others out, but about the open doors of freedom, fellowship, and compassion.

Whether our beliefs are biblical or more broadly spiritual, we can pay our respects to the Quakers—those quiet rebels who stood for love, equality, and freedom. Their example helps the Union of Saints to remember: silence is sacred, presence is power, and community is a form of prayer.

Spiritual decline is not simply the absence of faith or joy—it is the feeling of disconnection. It arrives when we lose touch with our inner light, with others, with the rhythms of nature, and with the divine. Yet every decline carries within it the seed of renewal, for the soul longs to return to wholeness.

The Power of the Union
The union is more than a gathering of individuals—it is a sacred weaving of souls. To unionize spiritually is to recognize that our lives are not meant to be lived in isolation, but in communion. This union is grounded in quiet yet profound rules, much like those practiced in the monastery: to listen deeply, to reflect before we respond, to live with compassion, to speak kindly, and—most importantly—to be present. In this sacred bond, we lift one another out of decline.

Monastery Teachings for Everyday Life
Monastic traditions remind us that peace is found not in endless striving, but in rhythm, humility, and devotion. When we bring these teachings into our lives—pausing for prayer, practicing mindful silence, breaking bread in gratitude—we invite simplicity and clarity. The monastery reminds us that sacred connection begins with presence: when we listen without interruption, share without judgment, and honor the quiet between words.

Nature and Self-Healing
Nature teaches us how to heal ourselves. The trees show us how to root deeply; the rivers remind us of flow; the seasons whisper that even decline is part of renewal. In the same way, self-healing requires gentleness: journaling, meditation, breathing, or simply sitting in stillness. These acts are not escapes but returns—to who we are and to the divine rhythm around us.

Union With Loved Ones and Living Beings
To heal spiritually, we gather with those we trust with our whole hearts—family, grandparents, beloved friends. We sit with our animals, who embody loyalty and joy without words. Their presence teaches us to love without condition. These unions, though quiet and ordinary, are among the most sacred connections we can make.

Movement and Cleansing of Spirit
Our bodies hold the imprint of our spiritual state. Through movement—walking, stretching, dancing—we cleanse both body and soul. Each step, each breath, is a prayer of renewal. In moving, we release stagnation; in cleansing, we create space for light to return.

Other Pathways of Renewal

• Acts of kindness and service awaken compassion and remind us of our shared humanity.
   
• Creative expression through art, music, or writing invites the soul to sing again.
   
• Silence and rest give the spirit room to breathe.
   
• Prayer and meditation anchor us, binding us back to the eternal presence within and among us.
   

Spiritual decline is not a fall into darkness but a call to union. By joining hearts with others in compassion and presence, by leaning into the quiet wisdom of the monastery, by healing with nature, by honoring the body, and by resting in love—we rise again. Renewal comes not by force, but by union, where the light of one soul helps ignite the flame of another.

For some of us, daily—relentless,
hearts as big as gold,
no end in sight.

In for the win,
in for the fight,
because the lives of victims matter.

And while voices like mine
may be few and far between,
voices like mine
make it to the court scene.

To court we go,
petitions in hand—
for U.S. victims,
we take a stand.

 Shock from war,
blood and gore—
we do our best,
but laid friends to rest.

Our stomach turns,
our heart stops,
too much witnessed,
still in shock.

Pained hearts,
longing for friends,
pain too deep,
hard to mend.

Day by day,
we grieve away,
still we try
to pray, to pave way.

For the next chapter,
toward the next goal,
we swallow the ache,
and life goes on.

In a hurry,
one straight path,
the road to glory—
saints march on.

Day by day,
sun or rain,
mayday, mayday—
we volunteer.

Year by year,
one gift here,
one gift there,
less thank-yous than thank-yous.

And yet we choose,
again and again,
with humble hearts,
our steady march,
the saintly way,
the truest way—
servitude.

 When people put blame on us unfairly or give us a hard time, we have a choice in how to respond—and our response can protect our peace, preserve dignity, and sometimes even repair relationships. Here are some approaches you can take:

• Take a breath before answering.
   
• Notice your emotions (anger, hurt, confusion) but don’t let them drive your response right away.
   

• You might say:
   
  • “I hear what you’re saying. Can you help me understand why you feel this way?”
     
  • “Can you give me an example, so I know exactly what you mean?”
     

(Asking questions slows things down, and often reveals whether their blame is fair, misunderstood, or misplaced.)

• If you disagree, you can be clear but not combative:
   
  • “I see this differently.”
     
  • “I understand your perspective, but I don’t share that view.”
     
  • “I don’t feel this was my fault, but I respect your feelings.”
     

This way, you don’t absorb blame that doesn’t belong to you.

Instead of staying stuck in blame:

• “Okay, maybe we won’t agree on whose fault it was — but what can we do to fix it now?”
   
• “How do we move forward from here?”
   

• If the other person keeps pushing unfair blame, you’re allowed to step back:
   
  • “I don’t think this conversation is productive right now. Let’s revisit later.”
     
  • “I’m not comfortable being spoken to this way.”
     

Walking away (literally or emotionally) is sometimes the healthiest choice.

You don’t have to convince them you’re right.
Sometimes the win is staying calm, not letting their projection weigh you down, and holding your ground with grace.

• You are stronger than you know.
   
• I admire how much effort you put into everything you do.
   
• You make the world brighter just by being in it.
   
• You inspire me to be better.
   
• You have such a calming presence.
   
• I believe in your dreams as much as you do.
   
• You handle challenges with such grace.
   

• That color was made for you.
   
• Your smile lights up the room.
   
• You have such a unique style — it’s inspiring.
   
• You always know how to put together the perfect outfit.
   
• Your energy makes you glow.
   

• You are so creative, it amazes me.
   
• This looks like something a professional would make.
   
• You have such a gift for storytelling.
   
• You always find the smartest solutions.
   
• Your cooking is better than any restaurant I’ve been to!
   
• You make difficult things look effortless.
   

• You are one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met.
   
• Your kindness makes a bigger difference than you realize.
   
• You have a heart of gold.
   
• People feel safe and loved around you.
   
• You make everyone feel included.
   
• You are such a good listener.
   

• I’m so lucky to have you in my life.
   
• Thank you for always showing up.
   
• Love you to the moon and back.
   
• I can always count on you, and that means the world.
   
• Time with you is always the best time.

 A Letter to My Beautiful Saints

To my beautiful saints,
who continue to greet me month by month,
near or far —

I just want to say thank you.
Thank you for being with me,
for staying the course through all the seasons,
These years have been challenging,
but your strength has given me strength.

I look to you as honorable companions,
lighting the path along the way,
reminders of courage, resilience, and love.
You have shown me what it means
to walk with bravery,
to endure with grace,
and to never let go of hope.

Thank you for sticking with me,
for standing beside me,
for reminding me that even in difficulty,
we are never truly alone.

With deep gratitude and love,
~D.

When you achieve milestones you’ve worked so hard for, you’d hope the people around you would celebrate, not vanish or attack, yet sadly, a common human dynamic is to hurt the achievers, here is what may be at play:

• Success can highlight other people’s insecurities.
   
• Instead of seeing your success as inspiring, some may have compared themselves and felt “less than.”
   
• That discomfort sometimes comes out as distance, criticism, or even subtle attacks.
   

• Major life changes shift how people see you — from “one of us” to “someone moving forward.”
   
• Friends who once related to you in a certain way may struggle to adjust when your path takes a new direction.
   
• Sometimes, instead of growing with you, they pull away.
   

• People often like things to stay familiar.
   
• Your new responsibilities, ambitions, and growth might have disrupted the old patterns, and not everyone can handle that.
   

• Attacks often say more about the other person’s fears and wounds than about your worth.
   
• It can feel like betrayal, but many times it’s projection — they’re struggling with themselves, not you.
   

When you rise, you sometimes outgrow circles that were never meant to hold the fullness of who you are. It’s not rejection — it’s redirection. The ones who truly belong in your life will cheer for you, not compete with you.

Dear Me,

I see you. I see the work you’ve done, the dreams you’ve pursued, and the courage it took to rise into this new chapter of your life.
Yes, some people have drifted away. Yes, some may have turned critical or distant. But this is not a reflection of your worth. It is a reflection of their own fears, insecurities, and inability to grow alongside you.

You are allowed to celebrate your victories,
to embrace your ambitions,
to step boldly into the life you’ve created.

The love and support that truly matters will come from those who recognize your light, not those who feel threatened by it.
The ones who leave behind are simply clearing space for companions who honor your journey, not diminish it.

So I release the hurt, the judgment, and the disappointment.
I hold on only to gratitude for the lessons learned and the growth achieved.
I am strong. I am worthy. I am rising.

And I trust that every step I take now is leading me to the people, opportunities, and experiences that match my heart and my purpose.

With love and faith in myself,
[Your Name]

 In the winds of change and shifting tides,
Some drift away, the distance hides.
But there are hearts that hold their place,
That walk with us through time and space.

They see our triumphs, they see our fears,
They share our laughter, they dry our tears.
Through storms and sun, through night and day,
We rise because they choose to stay.

No grand applause, no fleeting fame,
Just quiet love that knows our name.
Through seasons long, through paths unknown,
Their loyalty becomes our own.

So here’s to those who never stray,
Who light our skies when skies are gray.
We cherish, honor, hold them near —
The ones who stay, their hearts sincere.

 Spiritual people often carry a type of energy that is hard to define in ordinary terms. It is not something you can measure with science or fully capture with words, because it operates on a frequency beyond the mundane. This “high-octave” energy—let’s call it spiritual resonance—is a channel through which they connect with something greater than themselves: divine inspiration, universal consciousness, or the subtle currents of life that flow unseen.

For those who are not attuned to this energy, it can seem mysterious, even unexplainable. They might perceive the spiritual person as unusually serene, intensely focused, or profoundly empathetic—qualities that arise naturally from their elevated vibration. Attempts to explain this energy rationally often fall short, because the language of spirit is symbolic, experiential, and intuitive rather than purely logical.

In essence, spiritual people operate on a higher “octave” of consciousness. Just as a musical note at a higher octave resonates differently than one at a lower octave, so too does spiritual energy manifest differently. It is subtle, luminous, and sometimes ineffable—but always accessible to those willing to attune themselves to it.

Ultimately, this high-octave energy is not just about personal illumination. It is a channel of inspiration, healing, and guidance for others, whether or not they fully perceive it. The spiritual person becomes a living conduit for the mysteries of the universe, a bridge between the seen and unseen, the ordinary and the divine.