2025 taught me everything it could. Then I let it go… at 80 mph.

A reflection on how modern “sanity” often rewards blind obedience, conformity, and silence, while those who feel deeply, question systems, and speak truth are labeled unstable. It suggests that what’s called madness may actually be awareness—and that true sanity might be staying rooted in truth within a traumatizing world.

Being a giver doesn’t mean pouring endlessly. True healers give selectively—when it’s invited, resourced, and mutual. Stop over-offering and over-explaining; your tribe will recognize the real you without auditioning. Boundaries aren’t selfish—they’re sacred.

In a dimly lit room, Mara trades more than money; she offers presence with intent. Every glance, every touch is deliberate, measured, sacred. She reads the energy of the people she meets, witnessing without losing herself, balancing the intimacy she gives with the boundaries she protects. In her world, connection has currency, and every exchange leaves her spirit intact.

There’s a reason certain stories won’t leave us alone. Santa.A red-and-white figure.Arrives from another realm.Travels with flying animals.Enters through chimneys.Leaves gifts.Appears once a year at the darkest point of winter. We tell it to children and pretend it’s silly.But the story itself is ancient … and serious. Santa → St. Nicholas → The Solstice…

It started with a kiss that didn’t ask for anything. Just mouths meeting, slow enough to notice breath— sweet, warm, انسانی, real. I didn’t realize how boarded up I’d been until my body remembered how to open.

My nervous system doesn’t open to urgency. It opens to steadiness. To hands that don’t rush. To eyes that don’t assess. To presence that stays even when nothing is being offered. This is how intimacy heals when Venus lives in Capricorn in the house of joy.

Lately, I’ve been learning that peace isn’t about fixing the past—it’s about finally stopping the fight with it. That joy isn’t naive; it’s disciplined. And that sometimes, the lessons show up as sticky mucus, awkward conversations, or slow, awkward growth—and you just have to notice, breathe, and keep walking.

I’ve been walking around with this strange weight on me… the kind that doesn’t show on your face, but sits behind your ribs like a stone. My mom was 54 when she decided she was done with this life. I’m 54 now. And that number has been tapping me on the shoulder all year. Fifty-four is double 27 — the age I was when she left.

I don’t think I have pet peeves anymore. I’ve got super personal petty peeves. Like when someone asks what I bring to the table before they’ve even pulled out a chair… or when a person tries to trauma-bond with me after two messages… or when folks say they want growth but run from their own reflection. Tiny things. Petite irritations. Nothing serious.

In this post I am sharing how I am “transmuting” my expectations of others. I’m letting go of how I think people should act, and tuning into how life actually flows. I’m choosing presence over projection, trust over certainty, curiosity over control.

Patterns echo from the stars to the cells, from the inner world to the outer one. What we heal within shifts what we meet without. This potent conversation unfolds like a veil lifting, revealing the repeating geometry beneath everything.

There’s this strange, holy clarity that shows up right when the “real world” starts glitching like a cheap hologram. The family roles, the job ladders, the politics, the friend circles, the institutions we were told to trust—one by one the masks slip, and suddenly you’re staring at some sweaty little man pulling levers like, “Wait… that’s it? That’s what we built our lives around?”

A simple question — beach or mountains? My answer lives somewhere wilder. Somewhere things still dare to bloom in November, and the late bloomers, misfits, and miracles find their way through the cold anyway.

This week’s Freedom Friday dives into the shadowy rooms we’re told not to enter — from personal accountability to the parts of the Epstein story that still don’t sit right. It’s about stepping into dim corners with courage, naming what’s real, and reclaiming freedom one honest breath at a time.

A threshold isn’t just a doorway — it’s the line between what we’re told and what we can sense underneath. This week I walk up to the unfinished story of Epstein’s New Mexico ranch, the silences, the omissions, and the truths still buried in the land. Some files were disclosed… but not all. Threshold Thursday is where we learn to look anyway.

A midweek wander through three songs that cracked open old memories, gritty truths, and the woman I’ve finally become. A childhood promise, a grown-woman belief, and a name worth remembering.

A reflection on trusting your instincts—especially the primal ones. This post explores how instinct evolves from raw, gut-level growls into a refined inner compass when we slow down, listen longer, and let our wild wisdom lead the way.

A Tuesday for the brave-hearted. A reflection on how our mistakes become raw material, how quiet years can turn into lifetimes of growth, and how we learn to rise from the versions of ourselves we once feared. Transmutation isn’t magic … it’s courage.

A new rhythm is rising here — born from instinct, intuition, and the wild edge of spirit. “Feral’ly Spiritual” is the raw side of Mystical Monday, where the sacred gets untamed and the truth comes barefoot. Come feel the pulse of what’s waking up.

From Michigan to Arkan-sauna to Florida and back again. This journey has taught me that “home” isn’t geography. It’s the place where I stop abandoning myself.

Freedom Friday isn’t about perfection. It’s about choosing aliveness over the numbness that’s been swallowing you whole. This post dives into the raw, feral kind of freedom: the kind that wakes you up from the inside out. A reminder that feeling … even when it burns … is proof that you’re still here.

You can feel it, can’t you? That restless ache between fear and anticipation. The earth is calling us back to each other—to connection, to movement, to the holy hunger that makes us alive again.

What part of your routine do you always try to skip if you can? If you’ve been with me since the conception of this blog, you know that I am just now moving into a place where I’m actually living, in the true sense of the word. Until recently, I’ve been doing nothing but hanging on for dear life and trying to…

Transmutation isn’t just a fancy word for “change.” It’s alchemy … the process of transformation - from one state into another - without losing the truth of what it was. Think of how fire turns wood to ash, but doesn’t erase its essence … it releases what was bound inside. In human terms: Transmutation happens when we take dense, painful energy … grief, shame, anger, fear … and instead of repressing or acting it out, we meet it with awareness.