MSI Press Blog

From: An Afternoon's Dictation: Inclusive Revelation for the 21st Century   (Greenebaum) You cannot live forever, but you can be with Me forever. Time is your measure, not Mine. [God] Book Description In 1999 Steven Greenebaum felt he'd hit the wall. Fifty years old, he could not make sense of his life or the world around him. For several months he angrily demanded answers from God, if God were there. One afternoon, an inner voice told him to get a pen and paper and write. Steven then took dictation - three pages, not of commandments but guidance for leading a meaningful life.   An Afternoon's Dictation grapples with, organizes, and deeply explores the revelations Steven received and then studied for over ten years. His sharing is NOT offered as the only possible way to understand it the dictation. It is offered, rather, as a start. The book's sections include deep explorations into "The Call to Interfaith," "The Call to Love One Another," "The...

  Trauma teaches the body to shut down emotions as a survival mechanism. Numbing isn’t a choice—it’s a reflex. When someone has lived through loss, violence, instability, or chronic fear, their nervous system learns that feeling deeply can be dangerous. Connection once meant exposure. Vulnerability once meant risk. So the body adapts. Numbing: The Body’s Emergency Brake Emotional numbing is the body’s way of saying, “This is too much.” It’s not indifference—it’s protection. In survival mode, the brain dampens emotional intensity to prevent overwhelm. It’s the same instinct that slows bleeding after injury or dulls pain during crisis. The body prioritizes endurance over expression. People who seem detached or “fine” after trauma often aren’t fine at all. They’re suspended in a state of physiological defense—alive, functioning, but disconnected from the full range of feeling that makes life vivid. Avoidance: The Mind’s Way of Staying Safe Avoidance is another form of protection. I...

A true encounter with God—one of those moments that rearranges the interior furniture of the soul—never leaves a person where they were. It may come quietly, like a soft shift in the heart, or with force, like a spiritual earthquake. But however it arrives, the aftermath is unmistakable: life is no longer lived on the same terms. 1. The Immediate Afterglow: Clarity, Tenderness, and Disruption The first hours or days after such an encounter often feel strangely illuminated. Ordinary things look different. Conversations carry more weight. The heart feels tender, porous, receptive. People often describe a sense of rightness —as though something deep inside has finally aligned. But this clarity is often paired with disruption. Old habits suddenly feel incompatible. Long‑held assumptions wobble. The soul senses that something has shifted, even if the mind hasn’t caught up. A transforming encounter with God is rarely just comfort; it is also reorientation. 2. The Unsettling Middle: When the ...

  People don’t always hide feelings because they’re secretive or dramatic or unwilling to “open up.” More often, they’re protecting a story they desperately want to believe about themselves. A story that feels safer than the truth. A story that keeps life orderly. A story that maintains the illusion of control. These stories sound like: “I’m strong.” “I’m over it.” “I don’t care anymore.” “I’m happy.” On the surface, these statements look like confidence or resilience. But underneath, they can be armor—thin, brittle, and exhausting to hold in place. The Narrative Problem Every person carries a private narrative about who they are and how they’re supposed to move through the world. When a feeling contradicts that narrative, it creates friction. If someone’s story is “I’m strong,” then admitting fear or grief feels like betrayal. If their story is “I’m over it,” then acknowledging lingering hurt feels like regression. If their story is “I don’t care anymore,” then confessing attac...

From a relativist standpoint, values are not static ideals preserved in documents or slogans. They are living practices — enacted daily through gestures, rituals, language, and relationships. A value exists not because it is written in a constitution or creed, but because it is performed — in how people greet elders, negotiate conflict, share meals, or express gratitude. Values as Daily Performance Every culture sustains its values through repetition. Respect lives in posture, tone, and timing — in who speaks first, who listens longest. Generosity lives in how food is shared, how space is offered, how time is given. Justice lives in how people resolve disagreement — whether through mediation, apology, or punishment. These performances are not decorative; they are the substance of the value itself. Without enactment, the word becomes hollow. Transformation and Conformance When those performances change, transformation occurs. A younger generation may greet elders differently, spea...