spiritual awakening – MOOSHOOflow

I started April already feeling drained — emotionally raw, heavy, and confused. It was like my heart was still catching up to all the changes I had been making. I knew this month was supposed to be about integration — that’s what the energy reading at the beginning of the month said. April was meant to help me bring all my parts back together, to move from fragmentation into wholeness. I thought that would feel peaceful, empowering. I thought I’d be soaring by now.

Instead, it felt like I was falling apart.

At the start of the month, I had big intentions. I wanted to use April to work out more, feel strong in my body, lose some weight before my trip at the end of the month. I was ready to take action. But right around my birthday, I got hit with food poisoning out of nowhere. I had no choice but to slow down and surrender. It was a moment that made me realize just how much I do for others — how often I put myself last. And for the first time in a long time, I wished for something simple: peace.

The whole month, I found myself asking: Why is this so hard?
Choosing myself — choosing rest, choosing gentleness — felt heavier than I ever imagined. I thought freedom would feel light, happy, expansive. Instead, it felt like grief. Like standing in the ruins of old versions of myself.

And when the rubble cleared, the parts of me that stepped forward shocked me.

I didn’t meet the free-spirited, peaceful version of myself I expected. I didn’t meet the “healed” shaman-self I thought would be waiting for me on the other side.
I met the critic.
I met the voice that tells me I’m lazy.
I met the part that demands I suck in my stomach at the beach, that whispers I’m not enough no matter how much I do.
I met the old judge — and instead of fighting her, I listened.

Integration, I learned, isn’t about becoming the perfect version of myself.
It’s about making room for all the parts of me I tried to exile.

It’s about seeing my anger, my exhaustion, my inner critic — and letting them have a seat at the table, without letting them run the show.

April was hard because true integration is not about transcendence. It’s about embodiment.
It’s about bringing the rejected parts back into the heart of who I am.

Not to glorify them.
Not to obey them.
But to love them back into wholeness.

As this month closes, I realize:
I’m not falling apart.

I’m not falling apart and
I’m not soaring away.
I’m falling deeper into myself — into the parts that used to scare me.
Even though the ground feels muddy, I’m not afraid to keep walking.
Something in me has changed.
I don’t have all the answers, but I trust myself enough to stay.
I’m grateful I sat with myself through it all.
And that makes me stronger than I’ve ever been.

There are moments on our spiritual journey that arrive quietly, without fanfare, and yet they reshape us from the inside out. Recently, I found myself in one of those moments—and it changed everything.

For weeks, I had been working with the energy of March, calling it a time of creative fire, purpose, and vision. But if I’m honest, I didn’t fully understand what those words meant when I first wrote them down. They sounded nice. Inspiring. Maybe even a little generic.

Now I see. Now I feel the fire.
It’s the Inner Flame. And it’s been burning inside me all along.

February: A Sacred Song

February was about music. I followed the call to sing when I cooked, to sing into my water before drinking, to attend a choir show, to stand in front of an ancient image at the MET that stirred something deep in me.
Music became a way to open my heart, to tune my energy, and to connect with something greater.

Looking back, I realize February’s song was preparing me. It was tuning my instrument, setting the frequency for the next phase. That phase is March, and its invitation is clear:
Tend the Inner Flame.

March: Embodying the Inner Flame

I expected March to be intense—wild action, big moves, fiery transformations.
Instead, the fire came in an unexpected way.
It arrived as steady presence, embodiment, and ritual.
I found myself moving my body through regular workouts. Stress softened. Life felt calmer. I wasn’t running from anything or chasing anything.
For the first time in a while, I felt okay.
Like the stillness after a storm.
Like I was finally tending my own flame, rather than looking for a spark outside of myself.

I lit candles for myself, for my ancestors, for others.
I journaled. I meditated. I was present with simple daily tasks.
This was the fire—not destructive, but sustaining.
Not raging, but steady.
A hearth fire, one that keeps the home warm and the heart open.

The Sacred Fire of March

Now I understand what March was always about.

February opened my heart through music and vibration.
March is preparing my body and life to embody the Inner Flame, to live it, not just imagine it.
This is the fire that sustains, that nourishes, that empowers.
It’s not a wild blaze. It’s the steady flame I tend every day—with movement, presence, and purpose.

A Poem for the Inner Flame

I am the one who finds you in loss and leads you to victory.
I am your inner fire, your courage, your forward movement.
I walk with those who dare to rise after they have fallen.
I am your vision lifted high, your wings spread wide.
As you walk forward, I ride beside you.
I am the flame that shows you how to rule your life as a king.

Final Reflection

If you’re feeling stuck, or if you’ve been waiting for the next spark, know this:
You are already the Inner Flame.
The work isn’t to find the fire—it’s to tend it.
Tend it in your body.
Tend it in your life.
Tend it in your rituals.

Light the candle. Move your body. Be present.

MOOSHOOflow

Where Fire Transforms and Water Blesses