The Book of Light

Photo by Ms Kimberly There is a curious difference between two words that sound almost identical. Soul. Sole. One speaks of connection. The other speaks of separation. Much of modern life seems dedicated to turning us into soles. We are taught to be independent, self-sufficient, and self-made. We are encouraged to stand on our own, solve our own problems, and carry our burdens quietly. We celebrate individual achievement and personal success. Yet I wonder if this is not the s

One of the last discussions i had with Hazakyah was about a wish I would make if I had a magical wish stone. He told me to hold onto my wish stone because everything I needed was already in reach. These are the words I wish I could say to him now as i am replaying our times together. So many of our discussions wound up in my writings. Who will be my muse now? ~ms kimberly A wish is a curious thing. It is not a plan, and it is not a pr

After a brief illness, Hazakyah Hardy Dia passed away on May 18th, 2026, early in the morning. It was not long after I met Hazakyah that we started talking about metamorphosis. Somewhere along the way, it became our name — how we referred to our collective works, our website, our plans for a campground, our publications, the CRWN Centre, our work within the boxing community, our teachings, the eventual securement of the land now known as Metamorphosis GCA, and so much more: g

A message of inner strengthening from our sister Michal. May you find the peace inside of you with each passing day. The outer world is a reflection of the inner world. If there is war outside, I am called to look for where there is war within me—and to create peace there. If there is lack of acceptance outside, I am invited to search for what I am not accepting within myself. It may be my trait, appearance, or reactions… and to bring acceptance to that place. If there is noi

There is a question that moves quietly beneath so many of my thoughts: if something is changing, does that mean something was wrong? I’ve felt this question in subtle ways—in moments of growth, in discomfort, in the gentle awareness that I am not who I was even a season ago. And for a long time, I think I believed, without really naming it, that change meant correction … that something needed fixing. But when I look to nature, I don’t see that story reflected back . Step out

What if peace begins with something small…like a single, shared minute? Between one siren and the next, a message arrived—sent from a spiritual sister, connected to a Buddhist community, carried across distance, and held with quiet urgency. It was not complicated, and it did not ask for anything elaborate. Just this: a simple and sincere invitation to pray for peace. No instructions, no prescribed words, no need to “get it right.” Only the gentle knowing that even a single th

Smooth-billed Ani, photo by Ms Kimberly Coal-black and quietly watchful, the Smooth-billed Ani moves through the Caribbean landscape not as a solitary bird, but as part of a community. Rarely alone, they travel in small groups, foraging together and watching over one another. Their presence carries a quiet lesson about cooperation and shared responsibility. Unlike most birds, anis build communal nests , where several females lay eggs and the group collectively incubates and p

Blooming Banana Plant. Photo by Ms Kimberly The bananas at Metamorphosis GCA have taught me something about patience. Not the quiet patience of waiting for rain, or the patient stillness of watching birds in the trees. A different kind of patience. The patience of knowing that what you plant may not be the thing that ultimately feeds you. On our hillside here in the Dominican Republic, the banana plants grow in quiet clusters. What looks like one plant is actually a family —

Scaly-breasted munia. Photos by Ms. Kimberly. This week, a small flock of birds appeared in the garden at Metamorphosis GCA. They were tiny, delicate creatures — brown with intricate feather patterns that looked almost like scales or woven baskets. They moved together quietly, hopping through the grasses and low plants, lifting into the air in brief, synchronized bursts before settling again as a group. Curious, I turned to the Merlin bird app to identify them. Scaly-breasted

Walking the hills here, I have started noticing the hibiscus more and more. They appear along fences, beside houses, leaning out over pathways as if they are part of the quiet conversation of the land. One morning the plant looks like nothing more than glossy green leaves. The next morning a flower has opened — bright, wide, impossible to ignore. Hibiscus does not do subtle. It blooms boldly, as if it understands something simple and important about being alive. Metaphysicall

Mango tree seedling. Photo by Ms Kimberly This morning, as the sun rose fully over the hills, I visited my garden that is growing and stretching out to meet the world. There is something sacred about tending what is growing. Not just the cucumber vines reaching for their string trellis. Not just the fences slowly being woven with green. But the quieter growth — the kind that begins where we are not always looking. In the compost. Recently we noticed something unexpected there

Photo and art by Ms. Kimberly A Reflection for International Women’s Day Peace is often imagined as something negotiated in grand halls, signed onto papers, or declared by leaders. But peace rarely begins there. More often, it begins in the quiet spaces of daily life — in kitchens, gardens, classrooms, and conversations between neighbours. It begins in the choices we make to listen, to care, to remain open when it would be easier to turn away. Across the world, women have lon

Citrus Butterfly, photo by Kimberly Thomas There is something purposeful about the common lime butterfly, the one known scientifically as Papilio demoleus. It does not float aimlessly like a scrap of sunlight. It moves with direction — swift, alert, unapologetic. When it arrives in the garden, circling slowly before landing on one of the red blossoms, it feels less like a random visitor and more like a messenger that knows exactly where it is meant to be. Its life begins in a

Our sister Michal writes to us from Israel, where communities are navigating life between sirens and shelters. In this quiet reflection, she shares how even in these moments, human connection, compassion, and unexpected companionship can still be found. Metamorphosis GCA — Growth. Change. Action. In a shelter. Here in Israel, things seem to happen in a different order: Action. Growth. Change. And then the hope for a different kind of action. In my neighborhood, the shelter ha

Lizard collage by Ms Kimberly Here in the Dominican Republic, the lizards are never far away. They dart across sun-warmed stones, cling effortlessly to painted walls, and pause—still as prayer—on the edges of gardens and hillsides. The Hispaniolan anole flashes emerald in the morning light, the house gecko claims the corners of our kitchen at dusk, and the curly-tailed lizard surveys the yard like a quiet guardian. They are small, yes—but their presence feels ancient, watchfu

The hills of Sosúa. Photo by Ms Kimberly I planted a test garden this season. It was going to be beautiful. Balanced. Diverse. Cucumbers. Lettuce. Snap peas. Beans. Onions. I imagined abundance. A thriving ecosystem. A metaphor for my life. What I got? Cucumbers. Just cucumbers. The lettuce faded politely. The snap peas gave up with dignity. The beans… tried. The onions never really committed. But the cucumbers? They said, “We live here now.” They stretch. They climb. They gr

More rain today. But the rain is doing its work. When we first moved here, this land had been treated like a dumping ground. Garbage pressed into the soil. Debris layered into the earth. A kind of forgetting had happened — the kind that occurs when people stop seeing a place as alive. And then we began. Cleaning the land, experimenting with plants and gardens. Soon we learned how the rain flowed on the land, where to plant, where to walk, where we needed shade and where we ne

Yesterday marked the anniversary of my father’s death. Anniversary days have their own gravity. Even when the world continues on — events planned, conversations happening, community gathering — there is an undercurrent that asks to be felt. My father was a spiritual leader. Not in the loud or performative sense, but in the quiet, steady way that shapes a life from the inside out. From him, I learned goodness. I learned kindness. I learned love — not as sentiment, but as orien

There is something about putting seeds into the earth that changes a person. As I plant cucumbers, beans, and lettuce into peat and soil, I feel the deeper layers of what is really being cultivated. It isn’t just food. It isn’t even just land. It is relationship — with place, with responsibility, with myself. Three words keep circling me lately: sovereignty, stewardship, and serenity. Sovereignty For much of my life, I feel like I moved through spaces as a guest — grateful, r

I have a message to share here. Love will win out. There is a lot of unhappy news blaring at us everyday, between war, politics, and headline news there is a message for us all to chose love. This is not a Pollyanna moment, this is the time to clearly decide that you are on the side of love. And let me tell you about the world we live in and the immense amount of love that surrounds us. Every living creature is filled with love. When I speak of living, I am looking beyond hu