✨ Crossing the Gridlines: A Moment of Sacred Remembering

✨ Crossing the Gridlines: A Moment of Sacred Remembering

Yesterday was another day of surrender.
Not defeat, but holy release.
The kind where creation can no longer be forced, only felt.

I laid myself down on the couch, not in collapse, but in devotion.

I hadn’t been feeling good all week.
And from the depths of my being, waves began to rise.
Not a scream.
But a weeping of the cells,
a remembering through the body,
a labor of emotional rebirth.

Grief, beauty, forgotten moments, they all returned to be witnessed.
To be loved.
To be released through the sensuous trembling of my human experience.

In the quiet of release, she remembered her own radiance, not through striving, but by choosing herself.
Her body, the sanctuary of her soul, had held so much: pain, memory, the ache of being human.
Now, it whispered truths from bone and breath, asking to be seen, to be honored.
Her organs became oracles. Her boundaries became balm.
And as she listened, the light returned, gently, wholly, as herself.

And last night, my dream carried me further.

I found myself in a rectangular hallway, looping endlessly.
The walls lined with echoes, faces, and energy from every season of my life.
I began to jog, a motion of reclamation, of doing something loving for myself!
but everywhere I turned, their presence obstructed my path.
Not with harm,
but with weight.

I awoke with a knowing:
There is no way forward in a space I’ve outgrown.
The hallway is not failure.
It is an invitation.

And this morning, I felt the stirring.
A longing to clear, to cleanse, to reweave the spaces I live and create within.
Not out of duty, but from a frequency shift inside me.

And then the vision came:

Self-love is a grid.
Victimhood is a grid.

Not metaphors, structures.

Echoes of endless thought loops, patterns that become silent inside because they are filed away in the inner closets.
Lattices of light or entanglement,
each holding a vibration, a geometry, a reality.
Victimhood bends me toward others’ gravity.
Self-love lifts me into my own orbit of presence.

This love is not loud.
It is sovereign.
It is the transmission of YES to myself,
so complete that it blesses the entire field.

And in a single breath,
I saw it.

I am finally putting myself first!!

Unearthing Myself!! And freeing the embedded artifacts from the cluttered hallways.

And the tears came again.
But this time,
they were the anointing oil of my return.

Not rebellion.
Not defense.
Just the quiet miracle of no longer leaving myself behind
to be more acceptable in someone else’s story.

I am here now.
With me.
For me.

And everything is shifting.

 ✨DeAn’Na

"In the quiet of release, she remembered her own radiance—not through striving, but by choosing herself.
Her body, the sanctuary of her soul, had held so much: pain, memory, the ache of being human.
Now, it whispered truths from bone and breath, asking to be seen, to be honored.
Her organs became oracles. Her boundaries became balm.
And as she listened, the light returned… gently, wholly, as herself."