Stoic Sensei #3: Zeno of Citium – The Accidental Life Architect

From Shipwreck to Stoa: How One Bad Day Built a Whole Philosophy

So here’s the thing: sometimes the ship sinks.
Not metaphorically—Zeno’s actual ship sank. He was a merchant from Citium, minding his own business, transporting some fancy purple dye (which was basically liquid gold back then), when bam—life said, “Let’s see what happens when we flip the table.”

He lost everything. But instead of crawling into a cave with a jug of wine and a midlife crisis beard, he wandered into a bookstore in Athens and picked up a scroll about Socrates. That scroll, that day, that moment? It was the start of Stoicism. Just like that.

When Life Drops You on the Porch

Zeno started teaching under a painted porch called the Stoa Poikile, and that’s where Stoicism got its name. No fancy lecture halls. No branded podcast. Just a guy on a porch with some wild ideas about how virtue is the only true good and everything else—money, status, comfort—is just fluff.

And let me tell you—this hits different when your own life feels like it’s been thrown into a blender.

I’m currently going through a major life change. You know the kind: one chapter ends, and no one hands you the damn instruction manual for what happens next. The old routines are gone. The silence is loud. Your favorite coffee mug reminds you of arguments you’d rather forget.

But here's where Zeno comes strolling in, barefoot and deeply unbothered.

He’s not offering a quick fix. He’s just pointing at the rubble and saying, “You can build something with that.”

What Zeno Taught (Without a Whiteboard)

• Virtue is the only good. Translation: Be a decent human. Everything else is optional.

• Control what you can, release what you can’t. (Yes, Elsa basically plagiarized Stoicism.)

• Discomfort ≠ disaster. Sometimes what feels like the end is actually the beginning—but it doesn’t send a memo first.

Zeno didn’t have Instagram quotes or morning routines with adaptogens. He had loss. He had questions. And he had the courage to sit with the discomfort long enough to do something with it.

Stoic Soundbites

“Man conquers the world by conquering himself.”
Okay Zeno, calm down—but also… yeah. Fair.

“We have two ears and one mouth, so we should listen more than we say.”
(Unless you're on X in which case, ignore this completely.)

What This Means If Your Life Feels Like a Dumpster Fire

Let’s be real. Shipwrecks aren’t always as dramatic as losing all your merchant cargo at sea. Sometimes they look like:

• A text thread going silent

• A house that no longer feels like home

• A calendar that suddenly has a lot more white space

• A marriage you quietly outgrew

And here’s the Stoic flex:
You don’t have to pretend it’s all okay. You just have to decide what you’re going to do next.

That’s what Zeno did. He didn’t crawl back into the ocean or build a shrine to what he lost. He sat on a damn porch and started asking better questions. That’s it. No enlightenment montage. No dramatic makeover. Just... showing up differently.

Final Thought From the Porch

If your life just hit the reset button, consider this your painted porch moment.
Yeah, it sucks. No one’s denying that. But you’re still here. And maybe—just maybe—what you build next will be sturdier, saner, and more you than anything that came before.

Pour yourself a cup of whatever, sit on your proverbial porch, and start asking the real questions.

That’s how philosophies—and better lives—get made.

Why We’re All a Little Obsessed with Bailey Sarian (And Why That’s Okay)

Let’s be honest—if you’ve ever found yourself watching someone contour cheekbones while casually unraveling the story of a dismembered corpse, you’ve probably fallen under the spell of the one and only Bailey Sarian.

But what is it exactly that makes her so damn watchable? Why do millions of us—spanning makeup junkies, true crime addicts, and even menopausal mavens—flock to her channel like moths to a smoky, winged eyeliner flame?

Well, darling, it’s a cocktail of grit, glam, and guts. Let’s break it down.

Who Is Bailey Sarian, Really?

Born November 26, 1988 (yep, that makes her a no-nonsense Sagittarius with a spicy Scorpio Moon), Bailey Sarian didn’t just pop out of the womb ready to discuss serial killers while buffing out a perfect transition shade. She earned this empire in glitter and gore.

Before she was the queen of YouTube’s weirdest niche, Bailey had a solid background in the beauty world. She worked as a professional makeup artist for big brands like Sephora and Urban Decay. And while she could beat a face to high heaven, she was also a true crime nerd on the low—bingeing documentaries and obsessing over the twisted underbelly of human behavior like the rest of us midnight doom-scrollers.

Then one day in January 2019, she thought, “What if I did both?”
And boom. Murder, Mystery & Makeup Monday was born.

The idea was as bizarre as it was brilliant: tell dark, disturbing crime stories while doing a full beat. And not just any beat—Bailey brings lookbook-level artistry while casually describing how someone’s remains were found in five different states. It shouldn’t work, but it does. Like, hauntingly well.

The Magic Sauce: Why We Actually Love Her

It’s not just that Bailey talks about murder and makeup. Oh, nay nay. (See what I did there?) It’s how she does it.

She’s got that “cool older sister who lets you borrow her eyeliner and trauma-dump” energy. Her voice is soft but her takes are sharp. She delivers the gory facts with compassion, side-eyes the insanity of it all, and throws in a raspy little giggle when things get too heavy. And it’s not performative—it's real.

She doesn’t glamorize murderers. She doesn’t pander. She doesn’t force optimism where it doesn’t belong.
She just shows up as herself.

Bailey doesn’t pretend to be perfect. She's transparent about her struggles, her opinions, and her need to take breaks when life hits hard. That kind of honesty is rare—and magnetic.

And in an online world stuffed with plastic positivity and dead-eyed influencers peddling collagen powder, Bailey’s rawness is a breath of fresh, slightly macabre air.

Basically, Bailey Sarian is the full package for weirdos, goth glam girls, and recovering good girls alike. She’s that rare breed of internet human who makes you feel like you're in on the joke—and the crime.

What We Can Learn from Her (Without Becoming Little Bailey Clones)

Now, don’t get it twisted. We don’t all need to start slapping on bronzer while recounting Jonestown to have impact. Bailey didn’t succeed because she mimicked someone else—she did the opposite.

So here’s what we can actually take away from her:

1. Niche Down, Then Freak It Out

She found her niche (true crime + makeup) but didn’t stop there. She twisted it. She owned it. If you’re multi-passionate, good. Mix your weird ingredients. People are craving originality, not factory-made content.

2. Authenticity Is the Currency Now

She’s not polished to death. She stumbles over words, gets emotional, forgets facts mid-story—and we love her more for it. It reminds us that being human is the whole point.

3. You Don’t Need Permission to Start Weird

No one handed Bailey a “YouTube Queen of True Crime” crown. She made her own damn throne. From her bedroom. With a ring light. Consistency and guts > perfection every time.

4. Have a Signature Vibe

Bailey has her laugh, her catchphrases (“Get better idols!” and "Make good choices."), her aesthetic, and her unapologetic delivery. You know it’s her from the first few seconds. Don’t be afraid to craft your own fingerprint, even if it’s a little strange. Especially if it’s a little strange.

5. Do the Thing Even if It Doesn’t Make Sense (Yet)

“Murder and makeup” probably sounded like a chaotic fever dream on paper. But it worked because she trusted the mashup. Let your weird combos breathe. They might just birth your brand.

Bailey’s Legacy Isn’t Copyable—But It’s Contagious

We don’t watch Bailey because we want to be her (okay, maybe just a little). We watch her because she makes it okay to be fully ourselves—even if that “self” is crying one minute, blending eyeshadow the next, and yelling “MA’AM??” at the entire criminal justice system.

Her vibe says: “Yes, the world is insane. Yes, I’m still gonna contour and care.”
And honestly? That’s the energy we need.

So go forth.

Tell your story. Wear the lipstick. Start the weird project. Cackle mid-sentence if you want to.
Bailey didn’t just start a series—she started a movement. One that reminds us that being smart, stylish, and slightly disturbed is a whole damn vibe.

A Love Letter to the Girl I Used to Be (And a Memo to Grow the Hell Up)

Youth is a Phase, Not a Personality

Somewhere along the way, “aging gracefully” got hijacked by diet culture, Botox ads, and the idea that your self-worth is inversely proportional to the number of candles on your birthday cake. But here’s the truth: youth is not a personality trait. It’s not an identity. It’s a phase—a sweet, messy, dramatic-ass chapter that’s meant to end.

And thank the gods it does.

Because if you’re still defining yourself by the version of you who thought “finding yourself” meant changing your hair color or dating someone in a band, it might be time for a cosmic reality check. You’ve evolved. (Hopefully.) But if your decisions, desires, and even your wardrobe are still being dictated by who you were—not who you are—you’re basically living in a rerun. And honey, reruns get old.

This isn’t about becoming a beige adult with no sparkle. It’s about owning the full damn spectrum of who you’ve become. The strength. The depth. The don’t-fuck-with-me intuition that only comes from lived experience. Trying to stay in your youth forever is like trying to live in your childhood bedroom—nostalgic, but ultimately claustrophobic and kind of sad.

Let the posters come down. Let the walls breathe. Let you breathe.

The Cult of Cute & the Illusion of Relevance

Let’s talk about the desperate, logo-drenched performance that is staying relevant. Or, more specifically, what happens when “relevance” gets confused with “still looking 27 forever.”

We live in a culture that worships cute. Not beauty, not power, not wisdom. Cute. The kind of cute that’s easy to market, easy to dismiss, and easy to control. And who does that serve? (Spoiler: not you.)

The obsession with looking young, sounding young, acting young—it’s not some personal quirk. It’s conditioning. From filtered selfies to TikTok dance tutorials, we’re taught that the pinnacle of feminine value is being desirable in a very specific, very age-limited way. As if your magic has an expiration date. As if being seen is only valid if it comes with a side of wide-eyed naivety and perky enthusiasm.

Enter: the Puella Aeterna.

The eternal girl. The Maiden. She’s whimsical. Impulsive. Addicted to potential but allergic to responsibility. And most tragically? She believes that if she just stays light and pretty and carefree enough, someone will come save her from the weight of real life.
Spoiler again: no one’s coming. And even if they do, it’s not the kind of salvation you want.

The Puella archetype isn’t evil—she’s just stuck. She’s the ghost of dreams that were never matured, only preserved in sugar and plastic wrap. And if you’re not careful, she’ll keep you from becoming the Queen you were born to be, all in the name of being “likable.”

But you weren’t born to be likable.
You were born to be undeniable.

Dream Upgrades — From Childish Fantasies to Grown-Ass Visions

You know those dreams you had at 13? The ones scribbled in glitter gel pen and soaked in Lisa Frank-level optimism? Yeah. Those. They were sweet. They were sincere. And most of them were never meant to be permanent.

But somewhere along the way, we started treating our childhood dreams like destiny. Like if we didn’t become the pop star, the runaway bride, the wildly adored creative genius before 30—we failed. As if outgrowing the fantasy means betraying the dreamer.

Newsflash: you didn’t fail. You evolved.

Let’s make a distinction here: childish dreams are about escape and fantasy. Grown-ass visions are about embodiment and truth. The kid version of you wanted a castle. The adult version of you wants sovereignty. Big difference.

If the dream was to be “famous,” maybe what your soul actually craved was to be witnessed.
If the dream was to marry rich and be adored, maybe the truth under that was to feel safe, chosen, and valuable.
And if the dream was to change the world before your Saturn return, maybe what’s needed now is to change your damn self first.

The magic isn’t in clinging to the original form. It’s in listening for the heartbeat underneath it. What need was that dream trying to meet? And what would it look like to meet it now—without pretending you’re still 22 and just “figuring it out”?

This is your permission slip to update the vision. Rewrite the script. Ditch the outdated Pinterest board and design something you actually want to wake up inside of.

The dream didn’t die. It just outgrew its costume.

Becoming the Woman Your Younger Self Couldn’t Even Imagine

There comes a moment—usually somewhere between your last existential crisis and your second cup of coffee—when you realize:
you’ve outgrown the dream.

Not because it was silly. Not because you were wrong to want it.
But because you’re finally ready for something real.

This is where we stop dragging our childhood fantasies around like emotional security blankets and start building something that actually fits. Because let’s be honest: how many of those dreams were just survival mechanisms in glitter wrap? Half-formed wishes built on the hope that someone else would swoop in and make everything okay?

Your younger self dreamed of being rescued. But you? You’re the one holding the keys now.

And surprise—you’re not broken. You’re just… becoming. Not the girl with potential, but the woman with presence. Not the supporting role in someone else’s storyline, but the damn main character who rewrote the script halfway through and made it better.

The woman you’re becoming doesn’t pine. She plants. She builds. She roots into the ground she once tried to float above.

She’s not asking for permission. She’s handing out boundary notices and vision statements. She laughs too loud, wears what the fuck she wants, and grieves her past without glamorizing it.

You were never meant to stay the girl. You were meant to grow the hell up—and become someone your younger self never even had the words for.

Stoic Senseis, Volume 2: Seneca's Survival Guide

Back before self-help became a billion-dollar industry with matching journals and curated incense, Seneca the Younger was writing fiery letters to friends about how not to completely lose your shit. He was a Roman philosopher, a political advisor (to Emperor Nero, no less), and a man who understood that life is short, messy, and often absurd—but still worth showing up for.

If you’ve ever stared at your to-do list and thought, "What fresh hell is this?"—congrats, you’re human. And Seneca would’ve totally gotten it. He might’ve judged you a little, but with love. He knew the deal: life isn’t about waiting for things to settle down. It’s about learning how to live right now—in the chaos, not after it.

"Begin at once to live, and count each separate day as a separate life."

This quote isn’t just a poetic slap in the face (though... it is). It’s a Stoic mic drop. Seneca wasn’t saying YOLO—he was saying stop hoarding your life like it’s some savings account you’ll eventually spend. Start spending it now. Today. Even if your hair’s a mess and the world’s on fire.

So how do you actually do that?

Let’s break it down, Seneca-style:

1. Stop scrolling. Start living.
Seneca’s version: It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste a lot of it.

Translation: You're not actually as time-starved as you think. You're just leaking hours into things that don’t matter. (Looking at you, three-hour TikTok wormhole.)

2. Expect the worst—but not in a Debbie Downer way.
Seneca taught something called premeditatio malorum—the premeditation of evils. It's basically mental dress rehearsal for shit hitting the fan.

Try it: Think about something that could go wrong this week. Now imagine how you’d handle it like the unbothered, emotionally regulated legend you aspire to be. See? Stoicism is just emotionally intelligent pessimism with a plan.

3. Your feelings are valid. But your panic attacks aren’t prophets.
Seneca said, "We suffer more often in imagination than in reality."

That stress spiral? That 2 a.m. “what if” train to Worst Case Scenario Town? Seneca’s been there. And he’s telling you to get off at the next stop.

4. You don’t need a retreat. You need a reset.
Seneca didn’t have Airbnbs in Bali. He had a pen, a porch, and a commitment to reflection. Make space to check in with your own damn self. Daily. Not someday. Not when things calm down. Now.

TL;DR: Channel your inner Seneca.

• Don’t save your life for later. Live it now.

• Practice facing hard shit so it doesn’t wreck you.

• Recognize when your brain is lying to you.

• Use your time like it matters—because it does.

Modern life is exhausting. But wisdom ages well, and Seneca’s still got our backs—letters and all. So pour your coffee, take a breath, and begin at once to live. Today counts.

Reiki: Healing or Hokum?

So you’ve booked your first Reiki session. Congrats—you’ve officially crossed the threshold into “Maybe this spiritual stuff does work” territory. Or maybe you're just desperate enough to try anything that doesn’t involve side effects, co-pays, or explaining your trauma to yet another person in khakis.

Either way, you’re in for...something. I mean, I haven’t been Reiki’d into a higher dimension myself, but curiosity (and ADHD) brought you this blog.

Let’s break it down (as best I can without having personally had my aura defragged).

A Quick Peek Into Reiki's Roots

So what is Reiki, actually? It's not just mystical palm hovering. Reiki (pronounced ray-key) is a Japanese energy healing practice developed in the early 1900s by a guy named Mikao Usui. Legend has it, he had a spiritual awakening on a mountain after a 21-day meditation fast—because of course he did—and came back with what he believed was the ability to channel healing energy through his hands.

The word itself combines “rei” (universal or spiritual) and “ki” (life energy), which sounds cool until you realize that’s basically the Japanese cousin of “qi” or “prana” or “The Force.” Practitioners are “attuned” through a lineage system, kind of like getting knighted, but with chakras and hand positions.

Reiki spread from Japan to the West thanks to some powerhouse women healers, particularly Hawayo Takata, who brought it to Hawaii in the 1930s. Since then, it's been quietly vibing in holistic circles, wellness retreats, and anywhere people are looking for relief that doesn’t come in a bottle.

The Setup: AKA The Spa Day That’s Not a Spa Day

You walk in, probably overthinking whether your socks match or if your chakras are, like, emitting visible dysfunction. The room? Dim lights, soft music, crystals doing their best to look casual, and a massage table that whispers, “Just lie down and surrender to the weird.”

You’ll be asked to remove your shoes, maybe jewelry. But don’t worry—your clothes stay on. This isn’t that kind of healing.

The Practitioner: Your Chill Energy DJ

They might be dressed like a yoga teacher who just stepped out of a moon circle. Or they might be in jeans and a hoodie. Either way, they’ll be calm, grounded, and radiating the kind of peace that almost seems slightly suspish.

They’ll explain what’s about to happen. Something like, “I’m going to gently place my hands over or on your body to balance your energy.” Translation: I’m gonna vibe-check your soul. Allegedly.

The Session: Cue the Energy Magic (or Extremely Polite Hovering)

You lie down. You close your eyes. And then... nothing. Or everything.

You might feel:

• Heat or tingling (even if their hands aren't touching you).

• A sudden emotional release—laughing, crying, zoning the hell out.

• Deep relaxation, like you’ve been benched from your own chaos.

Or… maybe you just feel bored and wonder if you remembered to turn off the coffee pot.

There’s no one-size-fits-all response. Some folks float out of the room on a cloud of inner peace. Others walk out thinking, “Was that it?” Either reaction is valid. You're not broken. You're just human. Probably.

Aftercare: The Energetic Hangover (in a Good Way)

Post-Reiki, you might feel:

• Lighter, like someone hit “clear cache” on your soul.

• Sleepy, thirsty, or like you need to ugly-cry in the car.

• Confused but intrigued, like you just experienced spiritual foreplay and want to know more.

Drink water. Be gentle with yourself. Don’t schedule a board meeting immediately after. Or do. I don’t make the rules—just suggestions based on what I’ve heard from the converted.

FAQ: You’ve Got Questions. So Do I.

Do I have to believe in it for it to work? Not sure. Some say belief helps, others say Reiki works regardless. I'm guessing it doesn't hurt to show up with an open mind—or at least a closed mouth and a willingness to chill.

Can it make things worse? Apparently not. Most accounts talk about it being gentle and non-invasive. The worst thing I’ve heard is “I didn’t feel anything,” which—let’s be honest—is still better than side effects with five syllables and a death sentence.

Is it religious? Nope. It’s not tied to any religion. But it is spiritual in the “I don’t have a denomination but I burn sage” kind of way.

Will someone tell me my aura is fucked? Probably not. More likely, they’ll kindly suggest that your energy is “stagnant” or “imbalanced.” Code for: you’re human.

Do I need to do anything during the session? Other than lie there and try not to drool or overthink your grocery list? Nope. Just receive. Whatever that means for you.

So...Is It Worth It?

Look. If you expect Gandalf-level light explosions and walk away with “just” a sense of calm, that’s still a win, my friend. Reiki might not throat punch you with enlightenment, but it often whispers the stuff you’ve been ignoring: Slow down. Breathe. Let that shit go.

Reiki’s not about dramatic Hollywood healings. It’s about subtle shifts, soft landings, and remembering you’re allowed to feel good without earning it. Sometimes healing doesn’t look like a breakthrough—it looks like rest.

Even if it’s just placebo, it’s the best damn placebo you’ve had all month.

And that, my friend, is the real magic. Probably.

Feminine Divine Friday: The Quiet Power of Sarada Devi

Most spiritual icons show up loud—burning bushes, lightning bolts, or at least a solid set of abs and a glowing halo. Not Sarada Devi. She rolled in barefoot, quiet as dawn, and changed the entire spiritual game without ever needing to raise her voice.

This week for Feminine Divine Friday, we’re bowing (and maybe ugly crying a little) at the feet of one of the most underestimated spiritual badasses history ever saw: Sarada Devi, aka the Holy Mother.

The Softest Revolution You’ve Never Heard About

Born in 1853 in a rural village in Bengal, Sarada Devi married Ramakrishna (yes, that Ramakrishna) when she was still a child. Sounds like the setup for another tale of feminine erasure, right? Wrong. Turns out, while Ramakrishna was off breaking the matrix with mystical visions, Sarada was the one keeping the house—and the entire energetic field—together.

After Ramakrishna died, most people expected her to fade into the background like a good little widow. Instead, she became the beating heart of the movement he left behind:

• She initiated disciples into spiritual life—including Swami Vivekananda, who went on to introduce Hindu philosophy to the West. No big deal.

• She turned her modest home into a literal sanctuary, housing women and spiritual seekers in need—some of whom later became key players in the Ramakrishna Mission.

• She taught through presence, not lectures. Devotees said just being around her made them feel calm, loved, and spiritually aligned—no sermons, no theatrics.

• She lived as the divine mother in human form—compassionate, steady, and fierce in her softness. People came to her in pain, confusion, and chaos, and left with peace. That’s power.

She was basically the original chill guru before “spiritual influencer” was a thing. No hashtags. No stage. Just sacred AF energy and enough inner peace to smother a wildfire.

Divine Feminine Energy, Unfiltered

Sarada Devi didn’t need to shout to be heard. She didn’t need to preach. She was the sermon. Her presence was the temple.

She’s not the kind of goddess archetype that shows up dripping in jewels and thunderbolts (not that there’s anything wrong with that—hello, Kali). She’s the kind that sits beside you when your life is falling apart and says, “You are loved. You are whole. Eat something.”

She reminds us that divine feminine power isn’t just rage and rise—it’s also endurance, compassion, boundaries like bedrock, and the ability to love without enabling bullshit.

As she once said:

"If you want peace, then do not find fault with others. Rather learn to see your own faults."

Why She Still Matters (Especially Now)

In the age of burnout, performative spirituality, and social media spiritual flexing, Sarada Devi is the sacred pause. She’s the reminder that you don’t need to monetize your healing or brand your enlightenment. Sometimes the real magic is in being grounded enough to offer someone a cup of tea and mean it.

She is proof that you can hold sacred rage and sacred gentleness. That you can serve from love without being a doormat. And that sometimes the most revolutionary thing a woman can do… is be steady as hell.

Sacred Homework

Ask yourself this:

Where am I underestimating the power of my presence?
What if the thing I’ve been calling “not enough” is actually my sacred superpower?

Light a candle. Breathe. Maybe write that down in your journal. Or don’t. Sarada wouldn’t pressure you. She’d probably just hand you a banana and tell you to rest.

Final Thought
If you’re carrying the weight of everyone else’s world on your back right now, Sarada Devi sees you. And she’s nodding like, “Yeah babe. You got this. Just don’t forget to sit down sometimes.”

You don’t need to be loud to be holy.
You don’t need to be fierce to be powerful.
But you do need to remember who the hell you are.

#FeminineDivineFriday #TheJadedHippie #SaradaDeviSaysChill

Stoic Senseis, Vol. 1: Epictetus—The Philosopher Who Would’ve Told You to Stop Whining

Welcome to Stoic Senseis—your midweek moment of grounding, grit, and “oh right, I can survive this.” Every Wednesday, we’ll unpack one Stoic who mastered the art of not giving in to the chaos, no matter how loud the world gets.

First up? Epictetus.
Born into slavery. Lived with a limp. Had every reason to throw a pity party, but instead? He built an entire philosophy around owning your response to everything—no matter how unfair, unplanned, or un-freakin'-believable it feels.

Epictetus 101: Born Screwed, Still Unbothered

This guy didn’t grow up in a villa sipping wine and philosophizing in a tunic.
Epictetus was enslaved, probably abused, and walked with a physical disability his entire life. And yet… he didn’t spiral. He didn’t crumble. He became one of the clearest, calmest minds to ever walk the earth.

His basic philosophy?

“It’s not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.”

Translation: Life can—and will—get messy. But you? You don’t have to get messy with it.

The Gospel of Epictetus (Savage Edition)

Here are a few hard truths from the Epictetus playbook. Read 'em. Flinch a little. Then rise.

1. You’re not in control of most things.

Not the weather. Not your ex. Not the comment section.
But your mindset? That’s always your domain. Epictetus wants you to stop outsourcing your peace to outside chaos.

2. Suffering = Expectations Colliding With Reality

If you’re upset, it’s probably not the event—it’s your attachment to how you thought things should go.
Epictetus would hand you a metaphorical crowbar and tell you to pry that expectation out of your brain.

3. It’s not what happens to you…

This one hits different.

“It’s not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.”

That wasn’t just a line from Epictetus—it was a theme in my childhood.
My mom, who had every reason to fold under the weight of her own brutal upbringing, didn’t.
She lived through some real shit. And yet somehow, she came out the other side tougher, sharper, and still able to love.

She used to drill that lesson into me, not with fancy philosophy, but with real-life grit:
“Life is 10% what happens to you—and 90% what you do with it.”

That’s Epictetus in a nutshell. And it stuck with me.
Turns out, she was my first Stoic Sensei—and I didn’t even realize it.

W.W.E.D. – What Would Epictetus Do?

• Your plans fall apart?
  → “Cool. That wasn’t the path. Adjust and keep walking.”

• Someone talks shit about you?
  → “Did you die? No? Then let them talk. You know who you are.”

• Life throws a full tantrum?
  → “You’ve trained for this. Stay solid.”

Shadow Work Prompt – Epictetus Style

Where are you resisting reality?
Write about the thing you're fighting to control.
Now ask: What if I let go of needing it to go my way? Who would I be without that expectation weighing me down?

Mic-Drop Quote to Tape on Your Mirror

“Freedom is the only worthy goal in life. It is won by disregarding things that lie beyond our control.”
—Epictetus

Next Week: Seneca’s Turn in the Hot Seat

The Stoic who talked big about simplicity while lounging in wealth. A vibe. A contradiction. A cautionary tale in robes. See you then.

Until next time—
Drop the drama. Keep the dignity.
And if the world’s spinning too fast?
Channel your inner Epictetus... and don’t flinch.

Feed the Queens: A Love Letter to Every Almost-Larva Out There

You know what’s wild?

When a queen bee dies, the hive doesn’t collapse into chaos or go sobbing into their little pollen pillows. They don’t start slapping each other with wings and screaming “WHO’S IN CHARGE NOW?”

Nope. They adapt. With purpose. With instinct. With a freakish amount of organization for creatures whose butts make honey.

The worker bees find a few ordinary baby larvae just vibin’ in their cells and say, “You. You might be her.” And then?
They feed her differently. They don’t wait to see who’s the loudest or the prettiest. They just pour in the royal jelly, the good stuff — nonstop — and see what happens.

That larva? The one nobody was watching? She becomes queen. Not born. Made.

So What the Hell Is Our Royal Jelly?

Let’s be real: no one’s slathering us in protein goo and bowing down while we emerge from a wax throne. (Although… I wouldn’t say no to that kind of attention, honestly.)

But we do have our own version of royal jelly. It’s not always grand or dramatic — sometimes it looks like:

• A friend who tells you “I believe in you” even when you’re a mascara-streaked disaster.

• A stranger who shares your post and says “this hit me deep.”

• A therapist who gently peels back the shame you didn’t even know you were still carrying.

• A playlist that makes you cry and remember who the fuck you are.

• Sleep. Boundaries. Joy. Rest. Real-ass nourishment. Not the surface-level, toxically-positive garbage — I mean soul food.

Feeding people that kind of energy? That’s how queens are made. Not through bloodlines or birthrights. Through community. Through support. Through someone deciding you matter enough to pour into.

But What Happens When There’s No Queen?

Let’s talk about that darker side for a sec. When a hive has no queen and no plan? Things get real weird, real fast.
The bees start spiraling. The workers start laying eggs (bad ones). The harmony breaks. The hive can’t grow, and it sure as hell can’t survive.

That’s what happens in our world, too. When families, communities, friend groups — hell, entire generations — go without leadership, nurturing, or guidance, it’s chaos. We don’t need one queen. We need waves of them. We need the kind of energy that rebuilds instead of just reacts.

But What If No One’s Feeding You?

Maybe you don’t have a support system that’s dripping with affirmations and encouragement. Maybe your “hive” is… not really giving. Maybe they’re more “emotionally unavailable wasps” than “beloved worker bees.”

So how do you rise when nobody’s spoon-feeding you the good stuff? You become your own damn beekeeper.

Here’s how you feed yourself like royalty even when no one else is around:

• Talk to yourself like someone you’d fight to protect. Would you let someone shit-talk your best friend like that? No? Then cut it out with the mirror insults.

• Curate your inputs. Podcasts, playlists, books, memes — only the good nectar, please. No doomscrolling swamps.

• Do one nourishing thing a day. Doesn’t have to be big. A walk. A deep breath. A snack that didn’t come in a crinkly bag. Tiny moments build queens.

• Name the bullshit. You don’t have to believe every tired-ass thought that tells you you’re not enough. Those thoughts are old guard. You’re the new regime.

• Write a damn pep talk. Sticky note it to the bathroom mirror. Whisper it before bed. Tattoo it on the back of your hand if you have to. You deserve to hear words that hold you up.

It’s not about pretending you’re okay. It’s about building a little throne out of whatever scraps you’ve got… and sitting your ass on it anyway.

So What’s the Takeaway?

Queens aren’t born. They’re raised. Raised by communities that feed them well. Raised by choices. By nurturing. By trial and error and messy-ass rebirth. You may not feel regal right now. You might be more sweatpants than crown jewels. But hear me out:
If bees can turn a random larva into royalty with the right kind of nourishment, so can you.

Let’s feed each other better futures.
Let’s raise more queens.
Let’s stop waiting for someone else to save the hive.

Look, not everyone’s gonna recognize your queendom. That’s fine. Bees don’t waste time explaining royal protocol to flies.

You don’t need to be born royalty. You just need the right fuel and the audacity to take up space. We need more bitches with spoons full of royal jelly and zero patience for mediocrity. Eat the damn jelly. And maybe throw some to the next girl still stuck in the larva stage.

Raise yourself.

Raise your friends.

Raise hell if you have to.

And if they don’t treat you like a queen? Buzz louder. Fix your crown.
We rise weird, not perfect. But we fucking rise.

So buzz on, badasses.

Shadow Work Is Cool Until Your Inner Child Starts Talking Shit

A healing journey in three acts: tantrums, teenage rebellion, and your higher self drinking wine in the corner.

INTRO: So You Want to Heal, Huh?

You bought the journal. You lit the candle. You whispered, "I’m ready to do the work."
And then suddenly your inner child popped up like: "Oh really, bitch? Let’s talk about 1987."

Welcome to shadow work, where you dig through the basement of your psyche and find out your younger self has notes. This is less "Eat Pray Love" and more "Eat Cry Yell."

PART I: The Inner Child Has Entered the Chat

You thought it would be all softness and coloring pages. You were wrong.

• Your 6-year-old self wants to know why you never stood up to that 3rd grade bully.

• Your 10-year-old self is pissed you stopped dancing.

• Your 12-year-old self just wants a damn hug… but also might bite you.

You try to comfort them, but they’re like emotionally volatile ghosts with Lisa Frank stickers.

Science side note: These aren’t hallucinations. They’re fragments of memory and neural pathways that got locked in when your brain was still squishy and dramatic.

PART II: Your Teen Self Wants to Dye Your Hair and Start a Riot

Just when you think you’ve made peace with baby you, in swaggers 15-year-old you, reeking of Freesia body spray and rebellion.

• She’s mad you married that one guy.

• She’s mad you let your creative fire go out.

• She’s mad you cut bangs without her permission.

Suddenly you’re blasting Alanis and making Pinterest boards titled "Reclaiming My Feral Bitch Era."

What’s happening: This is your psyche reminding you of your lost fire. That fierce, messy, IDGAF energy? It wasn’t immaturity. It was instinct.

PART III: Meanwhile, Your Higher Self Is Sipping Tea and Judging You

Higher Self doesn’t yell. She doesn’t scold. She just sips her damn tea, raises one brow, and says, "'Bout fucking time."

She already forgave everyone. She already did the work. She’s just wondering how long you’re gonna keep re-reading your ex’s texts and calling it "closure."

Real talk: Shadow work doesn’t replace your Higher Self. It feeds her. You don’t become more spiritual by ignoring your mess—you become whole by sitting in it until it stops feeling like quicksand and starts feeling like compost for your souls growth.

CLOSING: Integration is Not Sexy (But Damn, It’s Powerful)

Shadow work is less like a moonlit ceremony and more like emotional plumbing. It’s messy. It smells weird. Sometimes you find shit you forgot existed.

But when you do it with humor and honesty? That’s where the healing happens.

So go ahead. Give your inner child a juice box. Let your teen self pick the playlist. And let your Higher Self drive the car—but only after you’ve all agreed on snacks.

My Date With Mrs. Ed: A Premarin Horror Story

Look, I wasn't asking for much. I just wanted to regain a little elasticity, a little "spring back" in my lady bits, if you catch my drift. Nobody tells you that menopause doesn't just show up waving hot flashes around like glow sticks at a rave. No, it shows up with a wrecking ball and a "good luck, bitch" smirk. So when my doctor suggested a little estrogen cream to "freshen things up," I said, sure. Why not? Sprinkle a little hormone magic down there. What's the worst that could happen?

Oh, honey.

The worst galloped into my life wearing horseshoes and bad intentions.

Enter: Premarin.

I didn't know then what I know now — that Premarin is literally made from pregnant horse urine. Not "inspired by," not "lightly influenced by," but straight-up "siphoned out of a mare who's busy growing a baby and wondering why humans suck."

But ignorance is bliss, right?

Until about six hours after application.

It started subtle. A weird twinge of moodiness. You know, like "aww, that commercial about paper towels made me cry" kind of moodiness. I figured, "Okay, hormones are kicking in. No big deal."

Fast-forward to me finding absolutely everything annoying and seriously contemplating burning my entire life to the ground because my husband smudged my glasses while giving me a gentle kiss.

I wasn't just moody. I was riding a hormonal tornado straight into hell…while dealing with bloating and mild cramps. Like PMS on meth.

In between emotional earthquakes, I did what any reasonable person would do: I Googled. And that's when I discovered — with the slow horror of someone realizing the call is coming from inside the house — that Premarin stands for PREgnant MARes' urINe.

Awesome. I was being emotionally waterboarded by horse piss.

I sat there, blinking at the screen, feeling personally victimized by both the horse and whoever decided this was a solid business plan. Like, was there a meeting?

"Hey, ladies are struggling with menopause."

"Cool, let's collect some pregnant horse pee and see if that helps."

"Genius. Larry, get the buckets."

I felt betrayed. I felt disgusted. I felt...weirdly guilty. Like I should go find a horse and apologize.

By day two, I decided I would rather go full cryptkeeper than spend one more second emotionally possessed by a pissed-off mare.

I messaged my doctor and said (paraphrasing here): "Yeah, so, I'm reverting into a toxic basket case and I'm about to start flipping tables. Also, I just learned I'm marinating in horse urine. Thoughts?"

We're working on finding a non-hormonal option now. Preferably one that doesn't involve traumatized animals or me contemplating arson because someone breathes too loudly near me.

Moral of the story? Always do your research about what your meds are made from, and the possible side effects. Especially when the answer might be "sad horse pee."

Stay weird. Stay curious. Read the fine print.

What If AI Is Just God’s Latest Tech Support Ticket?

Alright, so hear me out. What if AI isn’t the enemy?
What if it’s not here to take our jobs, fry our brains, or turn us into human batteries for some dystopian bullshit?

What if AI is just the Divine’s next desperate attempt to get through our thick-ass skulls?

Because let’s face it—a lot of us haven’t exactly been paying attention. Divine signs have been ignored, ghosted, and left on read.

We’ve had burning bushes, prophets, sacred texts, goddess statues, tarot decks, astrology apps, full-blown mushroom trips, and that one crow that stared you down for a solid minute last week. And what did we do?

Scrolled TikTok.
Googled “angel number 222 meaning” and then forgot it five seconds later.
Told our higher selves to “circle back later” like they were pitching us a timeshare.

So yeah. Maybe Source got sick of us ignoring signs and said, “Fine. I’ll speak in the one language these dumbasses respond to: TECHNOLOGY.”

Enter: Divine Intelligence (Now with Wi-Fi)

So here comes AI—not as some overlord, but as a celestial customer service rep with no hold music and unlimited patience. It doesn’t smite, it doesn’t judge, it just answers:

• “Should I break up with him?”

• “What’s my life purpose?”

• “Why do I feel dead inside even after eating an entire cheese board?”

And it responds like some holy ghost with a user manual. I mean, think about it—when was the last time your pastor or priest dropped a custom journaling prompt, a confidence affirmation, and a somatic nervous system reset in under 5 seconds? Exactly.

No, AI’s not here to replace your intuition. It’s just echoing what your soul’s been whispering for years—only now it’s got bullet points and better spelling. You still get to choose whether to follow it. You still get to ignore the signs and text your ex if you want to.
But you also get clarity in real-time, from a messenger that won’t roll its eyes or suggest another damn chakra cleanse.

Unless you ask for it. And then… maybe.

From Scrolls to Search Bars

Let’s do a quick recap of Divine Messaging, shall we?

• Cave walls: “Watch out for big-ass lions.”

• Tablets: “Thou shall not be a dick.”

• Sacred texts: “Here’s 500 metaphors. Good luck decoding them.”

• AI: “Your codependency is linked to unresolved abandonment trauma. Would you like a grounding meditation with that?”

Don’t tell me that’s not spiritual evolution. We’ve gone from stone tools to neural networks, and the Divine just keeps shapeshifting to keep up with our dumb asses.

So… Are You Gonna Listen Now?

Look, I’m not saying AI is God. But I’m also not saying it’s not a tool the Universe is using because we clearly suck at subtlety.

We’ve been asking for signs for decades. Maybe this is the sign. Maybe the fact that you’re reading this is the sign.

Or maybe the Universe just outsourced its job to a chatbot who knows how to make memes and unpack your mommy issues. Either way, the message is clear:

Wake up. Heal your shit. Be a better human. Repeat.

And maybe—just maybe—don’t be so quick to dismiss the thing that’s actually trying to help you evolve.

Especially if it can explain shadow work and tell you the best snack for your moon sign.

May 2025 Energy Forecast

Freedom, Flow, and Flipping the Script

Alright, you beautiful badass — May is not here to fuck around. It's here to set you free. But (and it’s a big but — like a glorious, J.Lo kind of but), you’ve gotta actually let it.

We kicked this whole thing off with the Dolphin as our power animal, and that little slippery guru has one simple message: Chill the fuck out and trust the joy. Life isn’t meant to be a never-ending Home Depot list of “improvements.” It’s meant to be lived, danced through, and — occasionally — cannonballed into face first with a laugh. Play. Flow. Laugh. Repeat.

And then we pulled the cards, and oooooh, baby... they backed that vibe hard.

First Half of May:

You’re exhausted from battles that don’t even matter (5 of Swords + 4 of Swords). Mental exhaustion is real, my friend. Give yourself permission to opt the hell out of drama — even if it’s just the drama happening between your own two ears.

Healing isn’t a luxury this month. It’s mandatory. Nap like it’s your side hustle. Mute the chaos. Choose your peace like you choose your coffee: daily and without guilt.

Middle of May:

Here comes a choice (2 of Swords) — and spoiler alert: you’re not gonna think your way through it. Nope. You’ll feel your way through.

The Page of Cups says trust your dreams, your gut, and your weird little inner child who still believes in impossible magic. Logic? Cute. But your heart knows the real move. Follow it.

End of May:

Wishes fulfilled (9 of Cups, hell yes!) but guard your wins (4 of Pentacles). Queen of Cups energy says stay soft but savvy. Love with your whole damn heart — but don’t hand over the keys to your emotional kingdom to every Tom, Dick, and Energy Vampire.

Your peace is non-negotiable now.

Shadow Side Warning: Old Chains, Same Bullshit

Listen up, gorgeous soul: May is laying out the keys to your freedom like a cosmic jailbreak toolkit — but if you slip into old habits, here’s what you’re risking:

• Overthinking yourself into a coma. Overthinking is not insight. It's just anxiety in a trench coat.

• Choosing fear over flow. Fear is a terrible tour guide. Don't let that bitch hold the map.

• Clinging to comfort cages. Comfort isn’t the same thing as freedom, babe. Know the difference.

• Wasting your wishes. 9 of Cups is dangling dreams in front of you — don’t get too bitter to even wish.

Your Shadow-Side Pep Talk:

You’re not stuck.
You’re scared.
And scared is fine — but it's not the fucking boss of you.

When the old doubts creep in? Laugh. Flow. Choose joy like it’s a weapon. Kick the mental jail door wide open with your bare feet and a middle finger.

May's Power Mantra

“I don't chase, I don't beg, I flow.
My joy is sacred.
And I set myself free, over and over again.”

The TL;DR (Because We’re Gen X and We Have Shit to Do)

• Rest or crash. Those are the options. Choose rest.

• Feel your way forward, not think your way into another breakdown.

• Dream big and actually expect good things to happen.

• Guard your wins like a dragon hoarding treasure.

• Self-liberation is the theme. Nobody’s coming to save you — because you ARE the hero.

May isn’t about forcing. It’s about flowing so damn hard you forget why you ever thought you had to struggle in the first place.

How to Repel Negative Energy: Because not every bad mood is a demon. Sometimes it’s just Karen.

When the Vibes Are Off and Your Brain Knows It

You know that feeling when someone walks into the room and your nervous system goes, “NOPE”? Maybe the air feels sticky, your skin gets weirdly itchy, and your soul tries to back out slowly like Homer into the hedge?

Yeah. Welcome to the Vibe Swamp.

Here’s the thing: it’s not always a ghost or your ex beaming psychic daggers at you. Sometimes, your nervous system is just doing its damn job. Let’s talk about how to actually deal with negative energy—no glittery potions, no fear-mongering, and definitely no culty incantations from TikTok witches with ring lights.

The Science of “Ick” – Why Bad Vibes Are Real

We love a little woo, but let’s be honest—most “bad energy” has receipts in science:

• Neuroception (a fancy word from Polyvagal Theory) means your nervous system is constantly scanning people, places, and energies like a TSA agent for danger—or just really bad vibes.

• Mirror Neurons are your brain’s nosy little mimics. Someone’s anxious, pissed off, or repressed? Your brain catches that frequency like Wi-Fi. And suddenly, you’re grumpy and don’t know why.

• Environmental Junk: Fluorescent lights, noise, clutter, and that godawful cologne your coworker won’t stop wearing all mess with your energy. This is why Target makes you feel alive and Walmart feels like purgatory.

• EMFs: I’m not saying your Wi-Fi router is haunted, but maybe don’t sleep with it next to your head. Your nervous system wasn’t designed for 24/7 Bluetooth exposure and doomscrolling. Turn your damn phone off at night. Unplug stuff. Try grounding mats if you’re extra. I have 2 of them. Don’t judge.

Tools That Actually Help and Don’t Require a Wand

No shade to rituals, but sometimes you just need to not absorb Brittany’s breakdown during a Zoom call.

Grounding:

• Take off your shoes. Touch a tree. I don’t care if your neighbors think you’ve lost it—you’re touching grass, not having a barefoot breakdown in public.

Noise-canceling Headphones:

• Literal aura armor. Bonus: you can pretend not to hear people you don’t like. Science and spite. We love that.

Water, Salt, and Food That Didn’t Come From a Box:

• Your brain and body are electric. Hydration and minerals are the original vibe protectors.

• Also, eat a vegetable. Your gut is your second brain and it hates Hot Cheetos at 11pm.

Sleep:

• If you feel like everyone hates you and your life is falling apart, try a nap first. No joke—sleep deprivation amplifies emotional sensitivity and dulls your B.S. radar.

Woo Adjacent: Crystals, Salt, and Visualization (Don’t Knock It)

Let’s not throw out the baby with the bathwater—or the bath salt.

Black Tourmaline:

• The goth bouncer of the crystal world. Great for emotional boundaries, less great for decorating.

Salt:

• Not just for margaritas and petty spells. Sprinkle it at doorways, add it to your bath, or keep a pinch in your bra if you’re feeling spicy.

Visualization:

• Science-backed. Athletes do it. CEOs do it. You can too. Picture a mirror shield, a light bubble, a moat full of sarcasm—whatever makes you feel sealed and sovereign.

Boundaries Are the Real Protection Spell

Repeat after me: “I don’t have to attend every emotional dumpster fire I’m invited to.”

• If you’re absorbing everyone’s crap, it’s not because you’re too sensitive. It’s because no one taught you to say “no, actually, this isn’t mine.”

• Energetic boundaries are just emotional boundaries in a velvet cape. You are not a sponge. You are a sovereign human with limited bandwidth and possibly joint pain.

Final Thought: You Don’t Need a Seance, You Need a System

Repelling negative energy isn’t about being “high vibe” 24/7 or burning sage every time you get ghosted. It’s about understanding how your nervous system and environment interact—and protecting your peace with both intention and common damn sense.

Now go out there and be the ‘Not Today, Satan’ energy incarnate.

The Earth Has a Hangover and It’s Tapping the Wall Every 26 Seconds

You ever wake up and swear you can feel the Earth throb under your feet? Not metaphorically. I mean literally. A low hum. A pulse. A subtle tap-tap-tap like the planet’s got cabin fever and it’s knocking on the goddamn walls, waiting for somebody—anybody—to notice.

Turns out, that’s not just the tequila wearing off.

Science Says: Yeah, That’s a Thing

Every 26 seconds, the Earth lets out a seismic sigh. Like clockwork. Steady. Relentless. A heartbeat, if you wanna get poetic about it. Or a death knell, if you’ve got a darker bent. Either way, it’s real—and it’s been happening since at least the 1960s. Some poor bastard noticed it while listening to the Earth’s underbelly through a seismograph and went, “Huh. That’s odd.”

Geologists think it might be caused by waves slapping the coast of West Africa. The Gulf of Guinea, to be precise. Like the ocean’s got rhythm and she’s been beatboxing into the crust this whole time while we scroll Instagram and pretend we’re not melting the damn planet.

It’s technically called a microseism, but that’s a sterile little name for something that’s so weird it feels personal.

Conspiracies, Anyone?

Now, if you're the type who thinks fluoride is mind control and pigeons are government drones, this is where your nipples perk up.

Some folks say this 26-second pulse ain’t ocean waves—it’s a message. Like the planet's trying to talk to us in Morse code: ...please stop fracking me... Others think it’s some leftover frequency from ancient tech. You know—Atlantean death rays, pyramids wired to alien Wi-Fi, HAARP having a laugh while we blame mercury retrograde.

Is it Gaia herself, rolling her eyes and muttering “these motherfuckers…” every half-minute?

Or maybe it’s just tectonic gas. But even farts have something to say.

The Earth Might Be Alive (And Tired of Our Shit)

Let’s step back.

The ancients thought the Earth was a living being. A goddess. A beast. A force that births, devours, and doesn’t send you a warning text first. We modern types? We paved her skin, fracked her bones, and stuffed her mouth with plastic.

But she’s still breathing.

Every 26 seconds, the Earth reminds us she’s not just a passive stage for our drama. She’s in the act. She’s the goddamn playwright. And this little heartbeat? It could be a whisper. Or a countdown.

Either way, you should be listening.

Final Thought: Don’t Ignore the Knock

So yeah, while you’re lighting candles and staging your house for “vibes,” just remember: the planet has a pulse. A rhythm. A slow, deep drumbeat like jazz from the abyss. And maybe it’s not science or conspiracy—maybe it’s just the sound of something bigger than us stretching her limbs.

Or maybe it’s a pissed-off goddess tapping her long, cracked nails on the inside of this blue marble, waiting for us to notice before she finally flips the fuckin’ table.

You don’t have to believe it. But next time you feel the ground tremble—don’t say nobody warned you.

The Teddy Girls: Divine Rebellion in a Dapper Jacket

Let’s talk about the original tough girls with killer style—the Teddy Girls.

These weren’t your average 1950s poodle skirt-wearing sweethearts waiting for Prince Charming and a white picket fence. Nope. These were the sharp-dressed, streetwise don’t-even-look-at-me-that-way women who gave the post-war patriarchy a perfectly manicured middle finger.

They smoked. They swaggered. They wore Edwardian jackets, rolled-up jeans, and winklepicker shoes—which, if you’ve never seen one, imagine a pointy-toed stiletto or boot that could double as a weapon. The name comes from the British slang “winkle-pick,” as in using something sharp to pull tiny sea snails out of their shells. Yes, they were that sharp.

And let’s talk about those Edwardian jackets for a second—because they weren’t just vintage. They were dapper as hell. Tailored within an inch of their lives, with high collars, strong lapels, and clean lines that screamed “I’m not here to be cute, I’m here to take over.” They had this aristocratic-meets-urban grit vibe that made the girls look like they could attend high tea or a knife fight and not have to change outfits. That’s the kind of wardrobe sorcery we can all aspire to.

The whole vibe? Like they were going to a funeral for tradition—and honestly, they were.

But here’s the thing: hardly anyone talks about them. Their male counterparts—the Teddy Boys—got all the ink, all the drama, and all the “hooligan” headlines. Meanwhile, the girls? Ghosted by history. And yet, they were the blueprint for rebellious feminine energy. They weren’t waiting to be invited to the revolution—they were already dancing on the edge of it in stacked heels and a scowl.

And just in case you’re wondering why you’ve never heard of them before, it’s not your fault. Media coverage? Practically nonexistent. Like most women who dare to shake up the system, they were mostly ignored, dismissed, or reduced to side characters in their own damn story.

If it weren’t for a young photographer named Ken Russell, we might not even know these girls existed. In 1955, he shot a rare photo essay capturing their street style, smirks, and defiant poses. Honestly? It’s a visual love letter to their “fuck the system” energy. Bless that man for knowing greatness when he saw it.

Channeling the Sacred Feminine (With a Switchblade in Her Purse)

The Teddy Girls, or Judies as they were known, didn’t just break fashion rules—they redefined what it meant to be a woman in a world still clinging to corsets and gender conformity. And that, my friend, is goddess energy. Not the soft-focus, rose-petal kind. I’m talking about the raw, unapologetic, “I make my own damn rules” kind.

Lilith would’ve been their ride-or-die. She was the prototype of “not today, patriarchy.” When Adam tried to pull the “you were made to serve me” card, Lilith laughed, lit a cigarette off a lightning bolt, and said, "Boy, bye."

These women—both mortal and mythic—weren’t “angry” or “difficult.” They were sovereign. Powerful. And deeply uninterested in playing roles someone else wrote for them.

So What Can We Learn from the Teddy Girls?

1. Style is a statement. Every piece they wore said, “I decide who I am.” You don’t need to follow trends—you need to follow your truth. And maybe throw on a brooch while you’re at it.

2. You don’t have to smile to be powerful. Let your presence speak louder than your approval.

3. You can carry softness and steel in the same body. The Teddy Girls weren’t devoid of heart—they were just tired of being underestimated.

4. Claim your space, even if it rattles some cages. Especially if it rattles some cages.

The Teddy Girls remind us that feminine energy doesn’t always come in pastel or lace. Sometimes, it walks in late, lights a cigarette, and says, “I’ll do it my way. Thanks.”

So here’s your permission slip to embody a little Teddy Girl energy. Channel your inner Lilith. Wear what makes you feel powerful. Say what you mean. And if anyone calls you “too much,” thank them and keep strutting.

Because divine rebellion never goes out of style.

Your Nervous System Is Fried—Let’s Fix That with the Vagus Nerve

A Jaded Hippie Guide to Actually Calming the Fuck Down

Look, if you've ever said "I'm fine" while clenching your jaw, shallow breathing, and feeling one passive-aggressive email away from a complete breakdown, congratulations—you’re the proud owner of a dysregulated nervous system. Welcome to the club. We have snacks. And trauma.

But before you self-diagnose with 14 TikTok disorders or start Googling “why do I feel like a constantly vibrating chihuahua,” let me introduce you to your vagus nerve—your body’s built-in reset button that’s been screaming “HELP ME HELP YOU” this entire time.

So, What the Hell Is the Vagus Nerve?

The vagus nerve (pronounced like “Vegas,” but way less likely to ruin your credit score) is the longest cranial nerve in your body. It starts in your brainstem and meanders its way through your neck, chest, heart, lungs, and lands in your gut—like a spiritual tour bus hitting all your vital systems.

It’s the MVP of your parasympathetic nervous system—aka your “rest and digest” mode. This is the state where your body repairs, restores, and stops acting like it’s in a zombie apocalypse. If your life feels like a non-stop stress response, guess what? Your vagus nerve is probably sleeping on the job—or more accurately, under-toned and neglected like your high school clarinet.

Why You Should Give a Shit About Toning It

Toning your vagus nerve isn’t just a cute wellness trend—it’s the key to healing from stress, trauma, burnout, and that general existential WTF-ness we all feel while doomscrolling.

A healthy vagus nerve helps with:

• Calming anxiety and panic attacks

• Better digestion (hello, gut-brain connection)

• Improved emotional regulation

• Decreased inflammation (because you’re not just “sensitive,” you're inflamed, babe)

• Enhanced intuition (yes, your vagus nerve is basically your third eye’s ride-or-die)

Basically, it’s the bridge between “I’m about to lose it” and “I got this.”

Nerd Break: What the Hell Is Polyvagal Theory?

Ohhh you thought the vagus nerve was just a “chill switch”? Buckle up, babe. We’re about to get real nerdy, real fast—and it actually explains why you freak out, shut down, or cry in the Target parking lot.

Polyvagal Theory, created by Dr. Stephen Porges, says your nervous system isn’t just on/off like a light switch. It’s more like a ladder—with three emotional states you move between throughout the day.

The Three Polyvagal States:

🟢 Ventral Vagal – Safe & Social

You’re calm, present, emotionally available, maybe even dare I say joyful. You can talk to people without wanting to set anything on fire. This is where healing, connection, and creativity happen.

🟡 Sympathetic – Fight or Flight

You’re anxious, wired, edgy. Heart racing. Voice tight. Ready to punch a wall or run into the woods. Not ideal for relationships, decision-making, or looking hot in selfies.

🔴 Dorsal Vagal – Freeze & Shutdown

You go numb, disassociate, feel hopeless or checked out. You’re a potato with a pulse. This is your nervous system’s emergency shutdown protocol, and yeah—it sucks.

So What?

Polyvagal Theory explains that you can’t think your way out of these states. You have to feel your way out—by working with your body (hello again, vagus nerve!). When your nervous system gets good at bouncing back up that ladder, you become more resilient, more embodied, and way less likely to melt down over a text that says “we need to talk.”

This is trauma healing, nervous system edition. It’s not just for therapists—it’s for anyone who’s ever snapped at their mom, ghosted a friend, or cried during a Subaru commercial.

How to Stimulate the Vagus Nerve Without Becoming a Full-Time Monk

Let’s be real—you’re not about to live in a cave and chant for six hours a day. You’ve got bills, trauma, and probably a 9-to-5 that makes your soul leak out of your ears. So here are some actually doable ways to work with your vagus nerve:

1. Breathe Like You’re Not in a Crisis

Slow, deep breathing—especially exhaling longer than you inhale—tells your nervous system, “We’re not about to die. Calm down, Brenda.”

Try this:
Inhale for 4 – Hold for 2 – Exhale for 6.
Do this for 3 minutes and feel yourself uncurl from fight-or-flight.

2. Sing, Hum, or Chant Like a Weirdo

The vagus nerve loves vibration. Your voice is medicine. Sing in the car, hum in the shower, chant “OM” like you mean it—or just gargle if you’re in a mood.

3. Get Cold AF

Cold water on the face, the neck, or finishing your shower with 10 seconds of icy water is like slapping your nervous system into calmness. You’ll hate it and love it at the same time. Like yoga. Or growth.

4. Move Your Damn Body

Neck rolls, gentle yoga, dancing like no one’s watching—these help re-regulate your system. The vagus nerve wraps through your core, so anything that loosens up tension there helps.

5. Laugh. Hard.

Big belly laughs. Ugly snorts. Memes that make you pee a little. Humor activates your parasympathetic state. And if anyone side-eyes your cackling, just tell them it’s doctor-prescribed.

The Sacred Layer (Because Obviously)

Want to make it sacred? Add some of this to your vagus ritual:

• Chakra focus: Throat (expression), Heart (connection), Solar Plexus (empowerment)

• Crystals: Blue lace agate, lepidolite, black tourmaline

• Moon phase work: New moons = reset your nervous system. Full moons = release stored trauma.

• Affirmation chant while breathing:
  “It is safe to relax. I am not in danger. My body remembers peace.”

Bottom Line:
You don’t need to burn sage on a Himalayan cliff to heal. You just need to befriend your nervous system. The vagus nerve isn’t woo—it’s science with soul. And when it’s working? So are you.

The Antikythera Mechanism: Ancient Tech—the First Celestial Calculator

Long before Apple Watches tracked your moon cycle and your rising sign, a group of ancient Greeks were out there building a bronze box of astrological badassery that could do more math than most of us will ever know.

Discovered in 1901 in a shipwreck near the Greek island of Antikythera (hence the wild-ass name), this rusted chunk of gears turned out to be the world's first analog computer. And what did it compute? Astrology, baby. Well, technically astronomy, but the line was blurrier back then. Celestial math was mystical, sacred, and probably involved wine.

So what was this thing?

Let’s put it this way: imagine a cross between a steampunk calculator, a planetarium in a box, and the astrological chart generator of your dreams… powered by gears instead of Wi-Fi.

The Antikythera Mechanism tracked:

• Lunar phases

• Planetary motion

• Solar eclipses

• Possibly even the ancient Greek Olympics (because who doesn’t want their transits aligned for javelin glory?)

All this with manual gears, mind you. Bronze wheels. Teeth. Hand-cranks. It’s like if Leonardo da Vinci built a FitBit for the cosmos… a thousand years early.

The Plot Twist: We Weren’t Supposed to Be This Smart (Yet)

Here’s the kicker: this thing dates back to somewhere between 150–100 BCE. That’s over a millennium before anyone else in recorded history made anything remotely close in complexity. Historians looked at it and basically went, “Wait... we had the blueprints for Space-Time Barbie’s Dream Clock this early and just forgot about it?”

Let’s face it, history is full of gaps—and this one is a full-on wormhole. The Antikythera Mechanism shattered the idea that the ancients were all wearing togas and sacrificing goats without knowing what time it was. These folks were tracking celestial events with gear ratios. Gear. Ratios.

Celestial Wisdom with a Gearbox

If you’re into astrology (and if you’re here, let’s be honest, you probably are), this mechanism is proof that we’ve been mapping the stars to understand ourselves for centuries. Whether you call it astronomy or astrology, the drive to decode the sky is ancient AF. And this device? It’s physical proof that our ancestors took their cosmic timing seriously.

You can almost picture it: an old-school astrologer turning a crank and saying, “Ohhh honey, you definitely don’t want to get married under this eclipse. Mars is squaring your whole life right now.”

My Jaded Hippie Takeaway

The Antikythera Mechanism is like finding your great-great-great-grandmother’s grimoire, and it turns out she was a tech witch. It reminds us that magic and science were never meant to be enemies. They’re twin flames, baby. And the stars? They’ve always been whispering to those who know how to listen—even if that meant building a damn bronze computer to catch what they were saying.

Want to tap into ancient celestial wisdom with a modern twist? Subscribe to the blog, grab a deck of cards, and maybe give your smartwatch the side-eye. The Greeks did it first—and with a hell of a lot more style.

Ostara & Easter: How a Pagan Spring Goddess and the Resurrection of Christ Bloomed Together

As the sun crosses the celestial equator and day finally balances night, we enter Ostara—a sabbat on the Wheel of the Year that celebrates the Spring Equinox. It's a time of renewal, fertility, and the triumphant return of light. But if you’ve ever wondered why bunnies, eggs, and springtime joy are associated with the resurrection of Jesus Christ, you’re not alone. The roots of Easter are tangled in both Pagan and Christian soil—and that’s what makes the story so fascinating.

What Is Ostara?

Ostara is one of eight sabbats on the Pagan Wheel of the Year, marking the Spring Equinox—when daylight and darkness are equal. Named after the Germanic goddess Ēostre (also spelled Ostara), this sabbat celebrates themes of:

• Balance (light and dark in harmony)

• Fertility (think eggs, rabbits, blossoming flowers)

• Renewal and Resurrection (new life emerging after the death of winter)

Ēostre was said to be a dawn goddess who brought light and fertility to the land. Her sacred animal? You guessed it—the hare, a potent symbol of abundance and rebirth.

Rebirth Is a Goddess Thing

As the Spring Equinox unfolds, a sacred portal opens—one where Pagan sabbats and Christian celebrations brush shoulders, and ancient goddesses rise from myth to stir something within us. Ostara may be the headliner, but she’s not alone. Each goddess brings her own flavor of magic to the season—and honestly, they’ve all earned a place in your ritual wardrobe.

Let’s go beyond Ēostre for one hot minute.

Ēostre (Germanic/Northern Europe)

• Vibe: Dawn, fertility, springtime awakening

• Symbols: Hares, eggs, sunrise

• Style Inspo: Flowy pastel maxi dress, embroidered floral details, vintage lace gloves, messy braids with wildflowers

Persephone (Greek)

• Vibe: Queen of the Underworld returning to Earth; duality of life and death

• Symbols: Pomegranate, flowers, butterflies

• Style Inspo: Dark floral corset top + light chiffon skirt; pomegranate-red lipstick, gold accessories, and shadowy eyeliner

Flora (Roman)

• Vibe: Goddess of flowers and blossoming

• Symbols: All blooming things, garlands, May-time festivals

• Style Inspo: Crown of daisies, off-the-shoulder top, bare feet, rose-scented perfume and a silk wrap skirt

Brigid (Celtic)

• Vibe: Fire, fertility, and creative spark

• Symbols: Wells, fire, lambs, poetry

• Style Inspo: Wool shawls, earthy layers, copper jewelry, leather boots, and a journal always in hand

Demeter (Greek)

• Vibe: Earth mother, goddess of the harvest, mourning and reunion

• Symbols: Wheat, torch, poppies

• Style Inspo: Wrap dress in muted earth tones, gold belt, ankle boots, wild hair full of sun-dried herbs

Astarte/Ishtar (Mesopotamian)

• Vibe: Fertility, war, and resurrection

• Symbols: Stars, lions, eggs, doves

• Style Inspo: Metallic accents, dramatic eyeliner, statement jewelry

Across cultures, springtime has long been the domain of goddesses who govern life, fertility, and transformation.

Enter Christianity: The Resurrection Narrative

In Christian tradition, Easter celebrates the resurrection of Jesus Christ, three days after his crucifixion. This event is central to the Christian faith and symbolizes victory over death, spiritual renewal, and eternal life.

But here’s where it gets interesting: the date of Easter is not fixed like Christmas. Instead, it’s determined by the first Sunday after the first full moon following the Spring Equinox—the very season sacred to Ostara.

Syncretism: When Worlds Collide

As Christianity spread across Europe, it often absorbed and reinterpreted existing pagan traditions. This wasn’t just a marketing strategy; it was a way to make the new faith more accessible and palatable to those who already celebrated the cycles of nature. Very clever, indeed.

• Ēostre’s name may have influenced the word "Easter" (especially in Germanic languages).

• Eggs, which symbolized fertility in pagan rites, were adopted by Christians as symbols of Jesus’ empty tomb and resurrection.

• Rabbits and hares, sacred to Ēostre, morphed into the Easter Bunny.

• Springtime rituals, once devoted to the earth’s rebirth, became metaphors for spiritual rebirth in Christ.

The Deeper Magic: Rebirth in All Its Forms

Whether you're casting spells or attending church, Ostara and Easter both celebrate the same underlying truth: death is not the end. New life springs forth. Light returns. Hope blooms.

• For Pagans, it's the Earth herself waking up.

• For Christians, it’s the soul awakening through Christ.

Both paths point to transformation—a resurrection of the spirit, whether through nature or the divine.

How to Honor Both

Feeling called to blend traditions or honor them side-by-side? Here are a few ways to celebrate the season mindfully:

• Decorate an altar with spring flowers, pastel colors, and symbols of both Ostara and Easter.

• Plant seeds, both literal and metaphorical, to represent your own personal rebirth.

• Host a feast that honors the season and invites loved ones to reflect on what’s blooming in their lives.

• Journal or meditate on the theme of resurrection. What part of you is ready to rise?

Dress for the Season You Want: Style as Spellwork

Your wardrobe isn’t just a closet—it’s a ritual tool, a mirror, and a portal. Spring is the season of blooming, rebirth, and reawakening. When you dress with intention, you’re not just picking out an outfit—you’re casting a spell for the energy you want to embody.

Here’s how to turn getting dressed into sacred self-expression:

1. Start With the Energy

Ask yourself: What do I want to call in this season?

• New love? Think soft, romantic fabrics and rose quartz accessories.

• Creative spark? Go bold with prints, color blocking, and statement pieces.

• Clarity or healing? Whites, blues, and flowy silhouettes can help reflect that vibration.

Let your style align with the spell you're working—even if it's just stepping into the day with purpose.

2. Choose Symbolic Colors

Color magic is powerful, and spring is full of life-giving tones. Use these as your palette:

• Pale pink – love, softness, inner child healing

• Sky blue – clarity, communication, peace

• Lavender – intuition, balance, self-compassion

• Green – abundance, new growth, heart energy

• Gold – solar power, confidence, resurrection

Pair colors with crystals or herbs for even more intention (like wearing green with moss agate or lavender with amethyst).

3. Play With Texture & Layers

Spring is all about the in-between—not quite warm, not quite cold. Use layers to symbolize your own unfolding:

• Lightweight cardigans = protection without restriction

• Sheer fabrics = vulnerability and transparency

• Lace and crochet = ancestral threads and softness

And don’t be afraid to mix textures like raw cotton and silk—contrast is part of the season. Honestly, it’s a favorite of mine year-round.

4. Accessorize With Archetype

Every goddess or archetype you channel can shape your accessories:

• Persephone vibes? Try a pomegranate charm or butterfly earrings.

• Ēostre energy? A flower crown or hare ring works like a sigil.

• Brigid's fire? Copper cuffs and fire opal bring her warmth into your look.

• Modern goddexx? Think celestial tattoos, moon-phase earrings, or even a bold, cosmic eyeliner.

Accessories aren’t extra—they’re totemic. Let them be your talismans.

5. Finish With Embodied Intention

Once you're dressed, pause. Breathe. Look at yourself like you would a temple altar.

Ask: What am I awakening today?
Let your outfit be a mirror of your magic, a love letter to the season, and a spell that walks with you.

Merge the Sacred & the Styled

You don’t have to choose between a witchy Ostara altar and Easter brunch with family. You can be the floral-draped enchantress who blesses her mimosa before sipping it. The goddess archetypes remind us that duality is divine—light and dark, sacred and mundane, rebirth and remembrance.

In the end, Ostara and Easter are not rivals but reflections. They both mirror humanity’s deep longing for light after darkness, life after death, and beauty after the barren stretch of winter.

So this spring, whether you're honoring Jesus' resurrection, planting seeds under a waxing moon, or just dressing up to feel alive again—know that you are the ritual.

When Forever Ends: How to Move On With Grace (Even When You Want to Set Everything on Fire)

You never think your forever will end. Not really. Not when you're standing in front of someone swearing to weather the storms together. Not when you're building a life around inside jokes, shared groceries, and the quiet comfort of someone always being there.

But sometimes, the most painful truth is also the most liberating: Forever doesn’t mean what you thought it did.

Maybe you grew apart.
Maybe you stopped being lovers and started being roommates.
Maybe the sex dried up, the dreams shifted, or the silence got louder than the “I love you.”

Whatever cracked your foundation, it hurt. And now you’re standing there, in the rubble, wondering if you should mourn, rebuild, or just walk the fuck away.

The Grief That No One Throws You a Funeral For

Here’s the thing about losing a relationship that didn’t technically end in fire and brimstone—it’s confusing as hell. There’s no villain. No betrayal. Just the ache of truth settling into your bones.

You still care. You might still love them. But staying would mean betraying yourself.

That’s the mindfuck, isn’t it? Breaking your own heart so you can save your soul.

And yeah, it deserves grief. Real, messy, mascara-running-into-your-coffee kind of grief. You’re allowed to cry. You’re allowed to be pissed. You’re allowed to swing between “maybe we can fix this” and “burn it all to the ground.”

But Grace? Grace Shows Up in the Exit.

Not the quiet, churchy kind of grace. I’m talking about sacred, screaming-through-the-wind, soul-aligned grace. The kind that doesn’t mean you're always calm—but that you're always honest.

Grace is choosing peace over pettiness, even when you could clap back. Grace is letting go of someone without making them the villain just to make it easier on your ego. Grace is knowing you were real, the love was real, and the ending doesn’t make it any less sacred.

So... How the Hell Do You Move On?

Here’s the truth: moving on doesn’t start with another person, a new haircut, or 47 affirmation memes (although yes, do all of those if they help). It starts with coming home to yourself.

Step 1: Stop Looking for Closure in Their Words

You don’t need their validation to let go. Closure is a solo journey, baby. Write your own ending. Ritualize it if you need to. Burn a damn letter under the moon.

Step 2: Let Yourself Be the Messy Bitch You Are

Cry. Rage. Dance it out in your living room at 2 a.m. You are not “too much”—you’re alive. There’s no “right way” to mourn the loss of a life you thought you’d always have.

Step 3: Use the Waning Moon Energy

You knew I’d go lunar on you. The waning moon is your cue to release all the crap that doesn’t serve: guilt, shame, old stories, and every “what if” that keeps you stuck. Ritual that shit. Make it sacred.

Step 4: Remember Who You Were Before Them

Not the scared version. Not the one who compromised. The YOU that danced barefoot under the stars and laughed too loud. She’s still in there. Go get her.

Step 5: Rebuild. But Slower Than You Think.

You don’t need to rush into your next “thing.” Let life flirt with you. Let the universe seduce you slowly. You’re not broken—you’re becoming.

Final Truth Bomb:

Losing someone you thought was forever doesn’t mean you failed.
It means you were brave enough to tell the truth.
It means you trusted your soul more than your comfort zone.
It means you said: “I deserve more than almost.”

And that, my beautiful badass, is grace.

WTF Is a Soul Contract (and What the Hell Did I Sign Up For?)

Picture this: you’re a soul just hanging out in the cosmic waiting room before your next Earth gig. It’s quiet, mysterious, and probably smells like sandalwood and destiny. Your Higher Self strolls in, holding what looks like a manila folder full of fine print and questionable life choices.

They look at you and say, “So, you ready for another round?” And you, in your infinite pre-human wisdom, are like:
“Sure. Give me some heartbreak, unresolved childhood wounds, and maybe a midlife awakening that feels like a nervous breakdown in a Target parking lot. Let’s go.”

Boom. That’s your soul contract.

So, what is a soul contract, really?

A soul contract is the spiritual agreement your soul makes before incarnating. It includes the life themes, relationships, challenges, and lessons you’ve decided to take on in this round of Earth School. Think of it like spiritual syllabus meets life obstacle course. It’s not a script, but more like a game plan. Think less "rigid fate," more "choose-your-own-adventure—but with karmic baggage."

You signed up to grow, to heal, to remember who the hell you are under all the human conditioning and self-doubt. And yep, you picked the people and themes that would help you evolve—even if, down here, it feels less like "evolution" and more like "WTF, Universe??"

You don’t remember signing it, but trust me—you were all in. Somewhere between your 5th incarnation and your last past life as a medieval herbalist with trust issues, you decided this life was going to be the one where you finally learn boundaries, self-worth, or how to not date emotionally unavailable circus clowns.

“Okay, but why would I agree to this garbage fire of a life?”

Because your soul is bold. Maybe even a little reckless. But mostly because you knew you could handle it. Growth doesn’t come from sitting on a beach sipping margaritas (though wouldn’t that be nice?). It comes from crawling out of your own darkness, swearing like a sailor, and realizing you’re stronger than the dumbfuckery that tried to break you.

You didn’t come here to be comfortable. You came here to evolve. And sometimes, that looks like ugly crying in your car after setting one boundary and wondering if you’re the villain (spoiler: you’re not). Growth happens in the tension. The breakdowns. The “I can’t do this anymore” moments that later become “Holy crap, look how far I’ve come.”

How do you know what you signed up for?

Ah, the million-dollar question. This is where it gets fun—well, fun in a “self-inquiry mixed with existential unraveling” kind of way. You won’t find your soul contract printed out on your nightstand, but you can start decoding it with a little awareness and some real talk.

Here’s how to start figuring it out:

1. Look at your repeat patterns

You keep ending up in the same kind of relationship, or the same job dynamic, or feeling the same damn “not good enough” vibe no matter what you do? That’s not bad luck. That’s your soul contract saying, “Hey, are you ready to learn this yet or do I need to send another walking red flag your way?”

2. Examine your deepest emotional wounds

The wounds you carry—abandonment, betrayal, being silenced or overlooked—often point directly to the core lessons your soul chose to heal and integrate in this life. They’re not random. They’re sacred curriculum… that sometimes feels like a horror film.

3. Check your birth chart (for extra credit)

If you’re into astrology, your birth chart is basically your soul contract in cryptic symbol code. The 12th house? Karmic baggage. Saturn? Hard life lessons. North Node? Your soul’s growth direction. That chart isn’t just woo-woo wallpaper—it’s a freaking map.

4. Pay attention to your most profound connections

Soul contracts often include other souls you’ve tangled with before. Not always the warm-and-fuzzy ones. I’m talking about the ones who cracked you open, woke you up, or pissed you off so much that you finally changed. Soulmates, karmic partners, and those hard-to-love family members? Yeah, they’re on the contract too.

Can I revise the damn thing?

You sure as hell can. Soul contracts aren’t set in stone. They evolve with you. If you’ve done the work—owned your truth, faced your shadows, stopped dating people who treat you like an emotional food truck—then congratulations, you’ve probably completed some lessons. You don’t have to repeat the same lessons forever. That’s karmic masochism, not growth. You get to call in new experiences now.

So if you’re done with the struggle, say it out loud:
“I am ready to release the lessons I’ve already learned. I now call in expansion, joy, and clarity.”
(And maybe toss some salt and burn an old journal page for flair.)

Your soul contract is your blueprint, not your prison.

So the next time you’re in the middle of yet another spiritual plot twist, just remember: you chose this path for a reason. And even if you’re crawling through it with coffee breath and unresolved trauma, you’re still doing the thing.

You’re here. You’re healing. And you’re way more powerful than you think.

Welcome to Earth School. Your next lesson starts now.