I used to think "real life" started when I got to town —
when I put my bra back on, when the pavement buzzed under the soles of my shoes,
when the cash handling, the tax deposits, payroll, and emails came calling.
But lately? Real life feels like it happens out here.
Barefoot in the woods, in a caftan and no underwear.
Scrambling granite boulders, taking pictures of wildflowers to run through my plant identifier app when I get back to WiFi.
Whispering to moss, trees, bees, and birds who don’t mind my company.
Now when I return to the city, something inside me stays soft.
I look around and see not just strangers, but possibility:
Mentors. Messengers. Mirrors.
Friends. Students. Teachers.
Not that I want or need anything from them,
but because I’ve finally cleared the static enough to see them.
Even through the buzz of so many vibrations,
it’s no longer white noise.
I see the colors surrounding each one — vividly.
This one is insecure.
This one is mistrustful.
This one puts too much pressure on herself.
And this one tries really hard not to show how much it hurts.
The best part about being an undercover Priestess?
I can fly under the radar in jeans — slipping unnoticed through their colors,
peering into their lives with wonder,
like a beautiful insect under a microscope
while we wait in line at the checkout.
Because I'm letting it all go.
My pride, my ego, my expectations.
Without those heavy burdens, I can finally breathe.
I can finally see.
Something cracked open in me, and now I can’t unsee it:
We are all becoming.
All fumbling toward light.
Even under fluorescents.
Even in traffic.
Even with receipts in one hand and smoldering palo santo in the other.
I have always aspired to serve with an unencumbered heart.
To be a vessel through which healing light flows.
Now I stand within a breath — a step — another day closer to becoming what I once only dreamed I could be:
A seer.
A healer.
A true advocate.
Maybe that’s the bloom:
We don’t have to choose.
We can be wild and wired, sacred and scheduled.
We can carry the woods in our bones —
even while walking downtown in Chucks.
I see you, Beloved.
And you are precious.
Ready to soften into your becoming?
Bloomspun talismans are crafted for the wild-hearted and the worn-thin. Charged with intention, ritual, and just a little rebellion — they’re made to meet you where you are.
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