Edits: Picture, subscription post, randomness wrote 3 years ago .. ♥️ I'm going to ease back in before throwing up books on ya...

In a world driven by visibility, validation, and viral moments, acknowledgment has become both deeply desired and dangerously distorted. This entry explores the fine line between seeking recognition and chasing attention, examining intention, humility, and self-awareness in how we show up for others—and ourselves. At its core, it’s a reminder that the most meaningful acknowledgment doesn’t always come from applause, but from purpose, integrity, and within.

This piece is a deeply personal reflection on what it means to survive a childhood where love felt conditional and safety was never guaranteed. I share a journey through betrayal, generational wounds, and resilience, while discovering how pain can transform into purpose. Growing up in the shadow of jealousy shaped me, but it did not define me instead, it guided me toward healing, spiritual awakening, and becoming the love I once needed. This poem explores breaking cycles, reclaiming power, and stepping fully into my voice while choosing light over pain. It is a story of rising, becoming whole, and understanding how even the deepest wounds can shape us into something stronger, wiser, and free.

Growing up I didn't know much about politics, but I was raised in church, so I knew what it was to be a christian. Or at least that's what I thought. I remember in 7th grade when the church was saying impeach Clinton, I asked why? When I was told my response was different then everyone else's. I said, how is that any of our business, isn't that between him and his wife? I remember later on asking my mom if we were republican or Democrats. She said republican. And like I always asked, but why? What's the difference? She said, republicans are Christians and Democrats are atheist. It wasn't till I was 23 with my second kid; 2nd son in fact who is my mixed son, that I began to find out that's not what democrat means and I'm definitely liberal, and my opinion so is Jesus... I mean He says he came to set us free and that seems pretty liberating.

Ash Wednesday calls us into a season of honest reckoning, both personally and collectively. This reflection explores the Litany of Penitence as a communal act of clarity and courage, preparing us to live our weekly confession with deeper integrity and hope.

A sonnet describing the sun, highlighting its natural power of light, as well as its personal tie to the speaker. Written at a young age but aged fruitfully.

There is no fear as potent as the fear of the unknown. No monstrous visage discovered yet has been as terrifying as the infinite potential for horror which exists before the mask is removed. …

“This is a raw, spiritual, and deeply personal essay/ memoir about surviving a night of despair, loss, and betrayal. I hit rock bottom, feeling broken and ready to give up, but through rain, desperation, and a near-death moment, something beyond me pulled me back. This story is about awakening, forgiveness, and the divine intervention that reminded me I’m not alone. It’s my truth, my struggle, and my reminder that even in our darkest moments, life can call us to rise stronger than we ever imagined.”

This piece is me speaking from the parts of my life that shaped me the pain, the chaos, and the moments that forced me to find something deeper than just surviving. It’s about growing up carrying more than I should have, searching for relief in places that almost took me out, and learning what it means to keep going when everything feels heavy. I don’t share every detail, but I share the truth of what it feels like to walk through darkness and still believe there’s light ahead. I wrote this for the version of me that felt unseen, and for anyone who’s ever felt misunderstood. It’s raw, it’s honest, and it’s proof that even the hardest roads can lead to healing.

This is just a tiny, minuscule piece of what I’ve endured. "Still I Rise, But Not How You Think" is a reflection on surviving childhood pain, invisibility, and loss. I was shaped by shadows, but I chose to rise—not untouched, but whole—so that I can give love, not just survive.

Willow Harris returns from the Army to a life divided between her ambitious mother’s world and her pastor father’s strict Southern family. Rising through law enforcement to the FBI’s BAU, she excels at catching killers while hiding secrets about her identity, love, and past. As family scandals, buried trauma, and a calculating predator close in, Willow must confront the truth she’s spent years avoiding — before the life she built collapses from beneath her.

🔥🐎 Year of the Fire Horse Energy In the spirit of the Chinese zodiac, the Year of the Horse symbolizes drive, ambition, and forward movement — but the Fire Horse takes it to another level. It represents bold action, passion, and refusing to stay stagnant. No hesitation. No playing small. Just momentum. If you had to move like a Fire Horse this year, what would you finally chase without fear? Drop it below. Let’s spark something powerful together. 🔥

This reflection explores breath as a sacred marker of belonging, weaving lived experience and Angela N. Parker’s book “If God Still Breathes, Why Can’t I?” It names how many women live with “stifled breath” and unvoiced questions in spiritual spaces that constrict the lung of our souls rather than expanding them. This essay also introduces Womanist Theology, a tradition rooted in the real lives of Black women. Readers are invited to notice where their own breath feels tight or free and imagine Parker’s “redemptive self-love” in a grounded acceptance that honors one’s story as holy.

In spirituality, there are more than one afterlife. Those who practice full spectrum spirituality may have heard of the The Sands of Time. This is my take of The Sands of Time.

Chapter I Keeper of the Flame Alexandria — The Whisper Beneath the Scrolls The first time the symbol appeared in this life, it was not in a dream. It was on concrete. Spray-painted in faded gold along the side of an abandoned brick building near the river — a place I used to walk when I needed to clear my head. The area wasn’t sacred. It wasn’t historical. It was just quiet. But that night, something felt charged. I had gone there after an argument — heart racing, mind restless, feeling like the world around me was shifting faster than I could ground into it. The sky was heavy with low clouds, streetlights flickering against the water. And then I saw it. A circle. Inside it, a single vertical line. Through the line, three short horizontal marks. Not random graffiti. Too deliberate. Too precise. The paint was metallic — not bright, but reflective, like someone wanted it to catch light only at certain angles. My breath slowed. Because I knew it. Not from this lifetime.

I was unaware of how prevalent religion was and how much it’s assumed to be the default these days in much of the US until quite recently. I’ll be honest, it shocked me. See, I’m Canadian. Talking about your faith is seen as a rude thing to do here. It’s a bit like spitting. Sure, people spit… but not in public. If you spit in public it’s not okay.

We like to think we see the world as it is. In reality, we see it as we are. Every thought, belief, and certainty acts like a lens—clarifying some things while distorting others. This stream is an invitation to pause, step back, and question the mental architectures we live inside every day. Not to replace one belief with another, but to notice the walls we mistake for reality. If you’ve ever felt that something about the world doesn’t quite add up, you’re already in the right place.

This short story is about a girl who goes through a bad breakup with her boyfriend, but later reexamines her love life and finds new meaning about love through Rumi, the Persian Sufi Poet and the way of his Mysticism through his poems, filled with love and ecstasy. This short story is for those who enjoy Rumi and his poetry.

Hannah Reed believed in God. She just wasn’t sure she believed He was listening anymore. When the prayer she was sure would change everything is met with silence, Hannah is forced to confront a faith she no longer recognizes. Still attending church, still singing the songs, still saying the words—she quietly wrestles with disappointment, grief, and the fear that hope might hurt more than doubt. The Prayer That Changed Nothing is a raw, faith-filled story for anyone who has prayed sincerely and wondered why heaven felt quiet afterward. This is not a story about losing faith—but about discovering God in the silence we never expected.

When faith fractures, silence can feel like abandonment. After a public failure drives her away from the church and the life she once trusted, Mara Collins returns to the small town she swore she’d never see again. Grace Hollow remembers everything—especially what she tried to forget. Still believing in God but no longer trusting Him, Mara navigates grief, regret, and the quiet ache of unanswered prayers. As she’s pulled back into the lives of others who are hurting, Mara begins to discover that God’s work doesn’t always arrive loudly—or on our terms. Sometimes redemption begins not with certainty, but with staying present long enough to hear hope whisper again.