Writings From the Spiral…
Essays, reflections, and transmissions on shadow work, spiritual practice, and the slow art of becoming whole. Writing about the things we're not supposed to say out loud — the grief with no name, the gifts that got buried, the healing that doesn't look like healing. Some of these will comfort you. Some will unsettle you. Both are the point.
Where shadow meets soul and healing doesn't move in a straight line.
A Soul’s Reclamation
You are no longer the ache. You are the altar.
You are no longer the longing. You are the vine that winds upward toward her own sky.
The Maccabees: When the Oil Runs Out
I believe that a guide who has never been lost in the valley has no business drawing you a map. I share this poem — raw, profane, unhopeful — because I refuse to be the kind of healer who only shows you the after.