Sometimes knowing you have a choice isn’t obvious. Sort of, “What, I can choose?”
I do not read the newspapers, nor watch the news.
I choose my reality.
I sometimes imagine myself in a place of turmoil like Jerusalem. I stand there, eyes closed, with ripples of “illumination” going out from me, as if a pebble were tossed in a pond. Every second, going out hundreds of miles.
Then, at the same time, I picture myself in the center of China, doing the same.