After the Fire: Returning Home With a Shaken Spirit

The last few weeks lit me up.

I held a ritual that moved mountains—channeling protection for a grieving mother whose son had passed. The wax pooled like a guardian. A full-bodied yes from Spirit.
I shared deep conversations with soul sisters. Held circles. Traveled with purpose.
Everywhere I went, I was on fire. Guided. Rooted. In flow.

But then, I came home—and TSA broke the spell.

Getting stopped twice for no clear reason—first for my knee, then for my stomach, both times with nothing on me—left me rattled.
I know my body is sacred. I know my tools are protection, not threat. But that moment pierced my nervous system like a thorn through silk.

The trip back home felt wrong. Like the sacred was being tampered with. Like my body was no longer mine in their hands.

And since then, the exhaustion crept in—not from the rituals, not from school, not from motherhood—but from that sudden jolt. That moment where Spirit was flowing…and the world tried to shut it down.

And still—I’m here.

Now I’m in the thick of midterms. Pages of pattern differentiation, pulse diagnosis, and memorization.
Aubrey’s softball schedule has picked up again—games, tournaments, late practices, cleats in the car and snacks in the trunk.
We’re moving. Always moving. But I’m trying to move differently.

I’m drinking my coffee again—not for survival, but as a slow ritual.
I’m figuring out how to move my body in a way that feels like love, not punishment.
I’m not trying to shrink. I’m trying to feel sovereign in this temple.

I’ve returned to my herbs. Gua sha with selenite. Warm food.
Remembering that the magic lives in my hands—even when they’re tired.
Even when I’m stretched thin. Even in transition.

If you’ve ever felt shaken out of alignment by something unexpected—if you’ve had to reclaim your body after someone treated it like a threat, or after life threw off your sacred rhythm—I see you.

You’re still sacred.
You’re still in rhythm, even if it takes a minute to find it again.

This season is about returning.
Slowly. Gently. Fiercely.

Back to my body.
Back to my breath.
Back to the sacred fire that never left—only flickered.