I find myself before bed, transmitting some kind of message to a loved one.
ChatGPT produced this version of this article, meant to simplify and better integrate these ideas. I liked its version:
The Transmission
Every night before sleep, I find myself transmitting something — not with words, but with feeling.
A quiet pulse: a thought, a wish, a fragment of love from my day.
I like to believe the Universe carries it, somehow — and the person I send it to feels it, even if they don’t know why.
We don’t yet understand how these emotional signals move between us — but they do.
The heart is stubborn and sincere.
It finds a way, always — through the soul, through being — to love, boundlessly.
ChatGPT produced this version of this article, meant to simplify and better integrate these ideas. I liked its version:
The Transmission
Every night before sleep, I find myself transmitting something — not with words, but with feeling.
A quiet pulse: a thought, a wish, a fragment of love from my day.
I like to believe the Universe carries it, somehow — and the person I send it to feels it, even if they don’t know why.
We don’t yet understand how these emotional signals move between us — but they do.
The heart is stubborn and sincere.
It finds a way, always — through the soul, through being — to love, boundlessly.