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From Sticky-Notes in the Subway – We are Not Alone in Our Feelings

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From Sticky-Notes in the Subway – We are Not Alone in Our Feelings


In front of me were over 10,000 sticky-notes, reminding me that I was not alone…

I’m tired. Tired of thinking, tired of talking, and tired of emotions without a name. Since my travels I thought I had a shell of an idea who my countrymen were. I was wrong, and it has rocked my consciousness. I am an emotional release facilitator. I literally am a professional at helping people identify, and release negativity, to make a space for light that brings joy. Yet, since the night of November 8th, I have felt distant, like there is one fragment of my spirit in every room, and each are sitting in silence. There is a loneliness, even within myself.

Within the past two weeks I was shocked to find half of Americans think it’s acceptable for women, Mexicans, Muslims, and other minority groups to be marginalized, and even have violence against them condoned. My Grandfather died, and my cousin’s two-year-old son was diagnosed with neuroblastoma. Lastly, on a holiday celebrating gratitude, and the supposed coming together of Native Americans and early settlers, thousands of our Indigenous brothers and sisters, and those who stand with them are being unconstitutionally mistreated.

Not all crying is a release. My emotions were going in circles. I needed out, so Kit and I went to New York. In the city we saw, ate and did some enjoyable things, but the chill November wind seemed to easily reach the cold still in my heart. While taking the Subway from where we were staying in Brooklyn, to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, we had to change trains at the 14th Street Union Square Station. A blizzard of color covered the walls. Like the other passers by, my hasty gait slowed. I read, “I will NEVER normalize Trump. I will fight for ALL.” Then, “I have your back. I PROMISE. We are stronger together… Love always wins!… LOVE one another… Don’t forget the Native Americans… Hope…”  My emaciated spirit drank in their words with surprising fervor. For the first time in two weeks, tears of healing and release came to my eyes. My heart started to heal, as my spirit began to mend, coming back together.

In my dark isolation, I had seen the half of the country who voted for bigotry, misogyny, and xenophobia, but had been blind to the millions who felt as I. In front of me were over 10,000 sticky-notes, reminding me that I was not alone in how I was feeling. More than that, I felt the strength of those around me who through their despair and pain were not giving up. They were continuing to love, share ideas, and standup for what is right and good. My healing is not completed, but the ice and separateness inside of me is melting. Thank you to my unseen friends in New York, who took the time to write a note to a stranger.











This street art protest is called “Subway Therapy” and was started by Matthew Chavez, known as “Levee.”


Wholeness through notes from strangers.
Love, “Whole Hannah” – inner i art

Hannah Galli