I became available

I had a vision come through that was so clear, so alive, that I tried to push it away. And then it came back.

The way energy does when it knows itself.
The way truth doesn’t negotiate.

It was as if it said, “You can play hard to get if you want — I’m not leaving.”

What arrived wasn’t persuasion or intensity. It was steadiness.
The kind of presence that doesn’t flinch at fear.
The kind that doesn’t try to fix the feminine’s distrust, doesn’t rush her, doesn’t demand her openness.

It simply stays.

This is how the divine masculine meets a wounded feminine — not by force, not by rescue, but by being unmovable in safety. So solid that eventually the struggle exhausts itself. So grounded that resistance softens on its own. And suddenly, without effort, the body realizes: I am safe to relax here.

The vision didn’t feel like imagination.
It felt like a memory from the future.

When I shared this with a client, I realized I couldn’t just describe what I saw. That would have bypassed the most important part. The vision wasn’t the medicine — the experience of it was.

There have been many versions of me who were so focused on receiving visions that I left half the wisdom untouched. I gathered insight but didn’t let it change me. I saw clearly, but I didn’t always stay long enough to be met by what the vision was asking of my nervous system, my body, my trust.

This time was different.

Instead of reaching for meaning, I stayed with the feeling. Instead of extracting insight, I allowed the experience to work on me. I let the energy land. I let it hold me where I would normally brace.

And in doing that, I didn’t receive something new.

I became available.

Available for the depth of the wisdom.
Available for the healing that doesn’t come from understanding, but from being held without leaving.
Available for the parts of me that needed proof through experience, not explanation.

And just like that, more of the energy, the wisdom, and the healing that had always been present was able to move through me — not because it arrived, but because I finally stayed.