I used to think healing from trauma was mostly about understanding what happened to you. If I could just map out the origin story—the neglect, the betrayals, the abandonment—I’d be free. I devoured books like The Body Keeps the Score, Waking the Tiger, and Healing Developmental Trauma like a detective looking for the missing piece […]
For most of my life, I thought of breathing the way most people do—as background noise. Inhale, exhale, repeat. Automatic. Unremarkable. But somewhere along my journey—on the edges of therapy, inner work, and spiritual practice—I stumbled into something deeper: breathwork not as a function, but as a tool. A key. A portal. Ironically, I didn’t
What started as a health experiment became a spiritual practice. Like many people, I first came to intermittent fasting because I was curious about its physical benefits—weight regulation, improved energy, and better focus. What I didn’t expect was how it would quietly reshape my relationship with food, with time, with hunger… and ultimately, with myself.
Spiritual fatigue, existential apathy, or the call to a deeper level of integration? There’s a particular kind of exhaustion that doesn’t show up on your Fitbit. It’s not just tiredness. Not the kind that a nap, a walk, or even a two-week sabbatical will solve. It’s a bone-deep weariness of the soul. A sense that
How gnosis—not belief—is the real spiritual awakening Plato’s Cave and the First Illusion Imagine spending your entire life in a dark cave, staring at shadows cast on a wall. You don’t know the shadows are illusions; they’re your entire reality. This is the image Plato gave us over two thousand years ago in his Allegory
How Spiral Dynamics can reframe your “dark night” as a dawn in disguise You’re not lost. You’re in transit. That crushing existential confusion, the emotional fatigue, the sudden inability to tolerate your job/partner/social feed—what if it isn’t a breakdown? What if it’s a breakthrough? Not in the “you got this, girlboss” way, but in the
If you’ve ever had a pair of characters feel a little too agreeable, a little too in sync, like they’re sipping tea from the same soul—well, congrats on writing your inner harmony. But compelling fiction doesn’t live in inner harmony. It lives in dissonance. In the magnetic push and pull of desire, fear, and reaction.
I read a lot. It’s one of the ways I try to make sense of this strange, beautiful, and often contradictory world. And not just mainstream nonfiction or practical how-tos—I read about out-of-body experiences, mystical states of consciousness, psychic phenomena, spiritual systems, esoteric philosophies. The kind of stuff many people dismiss outright, sometimes with a
After years of wading through the self-help aisle, devouring spiritual texts, and doing the work (therapy, retreats, breathwork, and journaling prompts with more emotional range than the average indie film), I’ve started to notice a troubling pattern — one that Ken Wilber, ever the cartographer of consciousness, named with clinical precision: the Pre/Trans Fallacy. It’s
I’ve read over 1,200 books on spirituality and mysticism. That’s not a flex (though it is a little bit). It’s a confession. A lifetime of searching, questioning, and tracking patterns across traditions, cultures, and centuries has brought me to a conclusion I didn’t expect when I first cracked open the Tao Te Ching or the
