Energy doesn't lie.

And the conviction she was accessing in that moment felt ancient. It felt like something deeper than excitement or a decision made from the mind. It felt like a remembering.

If you've been in my world for a while, you know that Fully Expressed is not a toe-in-the-water kind of experience.

It's the deep end.

It asks for honesty.

It asks for presence.

It asks for courage.

At this year's Fully Expressed Summer Solstice ceremony, something happened that I haven't been able to stop thinking about.

One of the women in our circle brought her bra to the fire.

At first glance, it may seem insignificant. Maybe even funny.

But what happened next was anything but.

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.