Before I even opened my eyes, I could feel the ache living inside my body.

Not just tiredness, but the kind of exhaustion that settles into the muscles after carrying something heavy for too long. My body felt as though it had run a marathon in the night. Every part of me ached.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how often people assume something is wrong with them because they feel things deeply.

Because they’re sensitive.
Because their emotions feel close to the surface.
Because healing hasn’t made everything feel “resolved” or calm in the way they expected.

But somewhere along the way, many of us forgot how to simply be.

This Mother’s Day, I find myself reflecting not only on motherhood itself, but on the sacred feminine force that exists within every woman.

The energy that births life, yes — but also the energy that births art, truth, healing, intuition, transformation, sensuality, softness, and deep inner wisdom.

The feminine was never meant to be small.

Sometimes, I want something so deeply that I begin to cling to it.
Not gently, not lovingly, but tightly.
So tightly that I forget how to surrender.

Maybe you’ve felt this too.
The way desire can slowly turn into control.
The way it can begin to feel like survival.

The internal framework I had been living inside of.
The one that said there was a correct way to move through life.
The one that equated speed with worthiness.
The one that praised control and rewarded self-abandonment in disguise.

This question met me in the soft hours of morning,
after a night I have come to know as spirit school.

A space where sleep dissolves,
and something greater takes over.
Where I am both student and vessel,
receiving, remembering, being reshaped.

There was no hesitation in them.
No questioning whether they should be bigger, better, or further along.
No holding back.

They were not trying to earn their place in the field.
They were not waiting for permission.

The realization didn’t feel loud or overwhelming.
It didn’t rush in with intensity.

It settled.
It landed.
It was already true.

There is a way of moving through life that does not feel like effort.

It feels like listening.

Like being in conversation with something larger than yourself.

Not something separate or distant, but something alive in everything. In breath. In timing. In the quiet intelligence of your own body. In the rhythm of Mother Nature. In the unseen hand of the Universe. In the presence of God, or the Divine, moving through all things.

To surrender is not to give up.
It is to soften.

It is the quiet willingness to loosen your hold and allow life to meet you as it is, rather than as you insist it should be. It is the recognition that you are not here to remain fixed, but to be in relationship with change itself.