Welcome,
Dear souls,
To a soul-led spoken word offering.
This isn't a guided meditation.
It's not a mantra or a method.
It's a remembering.
A voice rising from bathwater and bone,
From stars and soil,
From the sacred breath between heartbeats.
It's an offering from my soul to yours,
Real,
Raw,
Rooted,
Because maybe you've been feeling it too,
That quiet ache to come home.
I didn't always listen.
I was a soul born loud in a world that whispered.
Born sensitive in a culture that numbed.
They taught me to quiet my knowing,
To question my light,
To shrink into systems that were never designed for me.
So I split,
Spirit soaring,
Body surviving.
I floated so far into the stars,
I almost forgot to feel my feet on this earth.
And still,
My soul waited.
Then came the cracking,
Not all at once,
But in whispers and wildfires,
In grief that hallowed,
In baths that baptized,
In cards that said what I never dared to speak aloud.
It wasn't one moment,
It was many.
Sacred fragments,
Threaded together by something deeper than logic,
A knowing,
A pulse,
A thunder inside me that said,
Now,
Return.
And so I did,
Not perfectly,
Not all at once,
But wholly.
I returned to the rituals I'd forgotten I knew.
I touched the trees like temples,
I ate food like prayers.
I let the wind remind me,
I am here,
I am whole,
I am held.
The sacred return is not a final destination.
It's the act of choosing myself again and again,
Even when it's hard,
Especially when it's hard.
Because here's the truth that no one taught me.
Your soul doesn't want to escape the body.
It wants to live through it.
The magic is not somewhere else.
It's here,
In your lungs,
In your laughter,
Your longing,
In your sacred rage and your softest sigh.
In the way your hands tremble when you finally speak your truth.
We are not here to transcend.
We are here to descend into ourselves,
Into our power,
Into the full,
Fierce,
And holy expression of who we are.
So if you're listening to this now,
It's not an accident.
Maybe you too are standing at the edge of your own return.
Maybe you too are hearing the call.
Come back.
Not to who they told you to be,
But to the wild,
Radiant soul you've always been.
The one who speaks in signs,
Who remembers in dreams,
Who cries in the bathtub and still gets up and serves the light.
I see you.
I know you.
Because I am you.
And this,
This is your sacred return.
