shadow work
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There are moments when the universe does not knock politely. It arrives with a clipboard. No lightning. No trumpet. No dramatic warning written across the clouds. Just the unmistakable feeling that something old has begun moving again. It happened exactly the way it was supposed to. Saturn showed up, simply in reverse. No panic. No…
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There is an orchard few people ever speak about. Not because it is hidden. Because everyone standing in it believes it is normal. They walk among twisted trunks and fruit that never quite ripens. Some branches bloom beautifully while others rot from the inside. The leaves shimmer just enough to convince every generation that next…
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By the time she found the old tattoo artist, the waiting list had become a legend. Some said he had retired years ago. Others swore he simply stopped accepting people who wanted decoration instead of direction. He never asked what someone wanted. He asked why. There was a difference. The walls around his chair were…
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There is an old lake hidden beyond a crooked trail where maps refuse to be honest. The locals never spoke its name. They simply called it The Witness. Not because it judged. Because it remembered. Every leaf. Every promise. Every lie. Every excuse. Every person who believed the water could carry away something they refused…
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There is an old game people play. Two truths and one lie. Two lies and one truth. Most people think the object is fooling everyone else. It isn’t. The object has always been fooling yourself. I wandered into an old courthouse one evening that wasn’t marked on any map. It had no judge. No jury.…
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There was a town built entirely of mirrors. Not the kind hanging on walls. The kind people carried around with them. Everywhere they went, they stared into those mirrors, studying themselves, admiring themselves, defending themselves, explaining themselves. And because they were always looking at themselves, they rarely saw what was happening around them. The strangest…
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Somewhere along the way, we started speaking to the voice in the head in the third person. Not because we lost our mind. Quite the opposite. It happened because one morning, while standing in front of the bathroom mirror brushing our teeth, the voice started talking again. You know the one. The running commentary. The…
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There comes a season in life when you must disappear. Not because you are broken. Not because you are angry. Not because you hate people. You disappear because the next version of yourself requires silence to be built. Most people misunderstand disappearing. They think it means isolation. Depression. Giving up. It isn’t. It’s construction. The…
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“I wish I could tell you she was a hippie.” The Mind sighed and stretched itself across the corners of consciousness where it spent most of its time organizing thoughts into neat little piles. “But she wasn’t.” The Ego laughed. “Thank God for that. She would have been unbearable.” The Spirit smiled quietly from somewhere…
