Writing because no one will hear

Writing cuz no one will listen

Writing cuz no one is there

Writing cuz no one is here

Writing to pretend that hope is real

Writing to conceal and reveal how I feel

Wishing I felt nothing

Wishing it was me

Wishing that wishing really did something

wanting to remove the empty

Wanting to be free

Wanting to be able to want

Wanting anything

wanting more than what I see

Wanting what I lack

wanting to be wanted

just wanting love back.

Wondering where I went left

Wondering how I got this far

Wondering did I leave my dreams behind

Wondering what they are

Wondering if wondering ever did anything

Wondering why I have a voice if no one hears me sing

Wondering if I wasted life being a nice human being

Wondering if finishing last is such a horrible thing

Wasting so much time

Wasting energy and love

Wasting what was left

Wasting not enough

Wasting away but hopeful

Wasting hope on a hopeless case

Wasting cuz I’m wasted

Wasted time and space

Waiting for the moment

Waiting on destiny, fate

Waiting cuz they said that

Waiting was the only way

Waiting because I don’t know what else to do

Waiting cuz I’ve invested in you

Waiting cuz I don’t want to start again

Waiting without a friend...

Waiting for the lonely to end.

I woke up in a life I never asked for

II walk through days that

feel like punishment.

I gave my heart, my body, my dreams...

and now I sit alone,

with nothing but echoes.

I thought You crossed our paths

with purpose.

I thought You would protect me.

But the man I love is gone

and the ache keeps repeating

with different faces,

same silence.

I don’t want to be strong.

I don’t wish to evolve again.

I don’t want to keep going just to survive.

I wanna be held.

I wanna be seen.

I wanna be loved without

having to earn it.

I stare out the window

because it’s the only place that

doesn’t ask me to perform.

I keep moving

not out of hope,

but out of fear,

fear that You will be mad if I stop.

So I ask of You,

not for miracles,

but for mercy.

Not for answers,

but for presence.

If I am not abandoned,

then please, show me.

If You still love me,

PLEASE! let me feel it.

I am tired.

I am alone.

I am still Yours.

Amen

what is here on the ground that I’ve missed?
what has me shackled to the dirt?
who did I hurt?

replaying memories is futile.
i find that i just resent myself,
unable to solidify my wrongs,
nit‑picking at all of my flaws,
finding what i seek…
unfortunately.

looking for wrong
finding wrong
never giving self grace.

despising my choices so much
that i don’t look at my own face.

remembering nights i prayed that God
would simply take the pain
rethinking my faith because
i still see the rain.

my hope is that i don’t lose hope,
that He’ll still have mercy on me.
i fear i’ll be left here
from the choices i won’t set free.

lord, please help my unbelief.
wisdom i have,
but i desperately lack peace.

wanting to take the skies
and be me.
my purpose remains on the ground
indefinitely.

all i have now is what His word
promised me—
asking me now to just
trust and believe.

lord, please still my anxious feet.
the ambition placed inside gets ahead of me.
i start forgetting that it’s You,
instead of me.

no matter how long it may take me on foot,
i’ll stay grounded until He mends
and strengthens
again.

yes, it hurts…
but i know the plan.

so i’ll continue to worship Him
on land.

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Is it because I’m where I’m supposed to be?
Yet supposed to doesn’t exist.
Or because I’m destined for desolation?
But destiny can be shaped,
Often unseen until time of revelation.

Who am I answering to if not myself?
Is there truly happiness without wealth?

Beneath the surface, roots of despair intertwine—
Still expecting joy and peace to unwind.
Wondering if there’s really an end,
Or are we all just dust in the wind?

My thoughts erode my dreams,
Breaking hope at its seams,
Whispering nightmares within its scenes,
Bringing forth nothing but silent screams
And hopeless streams.

Pain dominates my sensors
And now I’m numb—
Each lonely night reminding me
That I’m really dumb.

Pleading to a God who seemingly cannot hear.
Desires have fallen on deaf ears.

Sometimes the moment of truth hits,
And it’s debilitating, paralyzing,
Not realizing I’m even stopped.

It comes in waves
To remind me that I’ve never seen the top.
It comes in waves
And shows me just how limited I am.
It comes in waves
And hurts in ways that lies never can.

It cuts deep,
Revealing hidden hurts and subdued pains,
Forming perception free of deception and chains.

Like working a muscle
And feeling it grow—
Not like tearing a muscle
And needing it sewn.

I welcome this truth,
This uncomfortable state.
The burden of knowing
I’m not that great,
That none may ever relate,
That life just comes with wait,
And hope just comes with hate,
And only one can reciprocate.

I know it seems my perspective is jaded,
But I’m not sad.
I’ve never been more certain
In the clarity I’ve had.

I cannot allow the lack of others
To deter me from my goals.
And I cannot let the riches of others
Distract me from my roles.

Breathing on my own
Means being on my own.
I am no longer afraid to do it alone.

I cannot be who I was—
It will not bring me down.
I must be who I am meant to be,
Even if no one else is around.

And honestly...it’s overdue

.

Somewhere along the way, a lot of adults quietly stopped eating vegetables unless hidden under cheese or pushed to the corner of the plate. We grew up thinking comfort meant meat first, starch second, and maybe a handful of greens if we remembered. But plant‑forward cooking isn’t about becoming a vegetarian or giving anything up. It’s about letting vegetables carry more of the weight — because they can and should.

Plant‑forward simply means the plants lead. Not dominate. Not replace. Lead.

It’s a bowl of chili built on roasted peppers and beans, with a little ground beef folded in for depth. It’s a plate of pasta where the sauce starts with mushrooms and tomatoes instead of cream. It’s fried rice loaded with charred vegetables and spices, with chicken as an accent instead of the whole story.

You’re not sacrificing anything. You’re expanding what comfort looks like.

Where It’s Already Happening

Across the West Coast and the Rocky Mountain states, you can see this shift in the restaurants that treat vegetables with the same respect usually reserved for proteins.

• The Butcher’s Daughter (Los Angeles) — vegetable‑driven dishes that feel generous, not restrictive.

• Wildseed (San Francisco) — comfort food built on produce, layered with global flavors.

• Fermenter (Portland) — vegetables transformed through technique, not gimmicks.

• Somebody People (Denver) — Mediterranean‑leaning plates that feel warm, soulful, and deeply filling.

These places aren’t preaching. They’re not trying to convert anyone. They’re simply cooking food that tastes good and happens to be built on plants.

Why It Works

Because vegetables bring things meat can’t: brightness, texture, acidity, color, freshness. They make a dish feel alive. And when you build comfort food around them, you get meals that satisfy without leaving you weighted down.

It’s not about eating “light.” It’s about eating happily.

Beyond Steak and Potatoes

There’s nothing wrong with steak and potatoes. But there’s a whole world of comfort beyond that pairing — bowls, braises, roasts, stews, pastas, grains — all anchored by vegetables that actually taste like something.

Plant‑forward cooking isn’t a trend. It’s a reminder that comfort can be colorful, layered, and full of life.

And you don’t have to give up anything to get there.

1. Experience Is Being Traded for Availability

There was a time when kitchens were built on mentorship — cooks who stayed long enough to learn the rhythm, the craft, the why behind the recipe. Now, it’s bodies over skill. Whoever can show up gets the job, and the learning curve becomes the customer’s problem. You can taste the difference between someone who’s growing and someone who’s passing through. You can feel the difference in the atmosphere of an establishment that people are proud to work at. Passion can’t even get you in the door now.

2. Customer Service Is Being Replaced by Systems

We used to teach hospitality — eye contact, timing, reading the room, knowing when a table needed space and when they needed reassurance. Now it’s QR codes, automated prompts, and scripts written by corporate. Consistency is the new personality. Efficiency is the new warmth. And somehow, we’re supposed to pretend it feels the same.

3. Quality Is Being Sacrificed for Savings

The first thing to go is always the good stuff — the butter, the produce, the cuts of meat that actually taste like something. Margins tighten, and suddenly the question isn’t “What makes this dish great?” It’s “What can we get away with?” You can only cut so much before the food stops being food and becomes a product. What they gain in the labor budget from cutting prep cooks, they lose in quality. It takes no skill set to open a bag and assemble the contents on a plate from the microwave.

4. Date Night Has Been Replaced by the Couch

Restaurants used to be the backdrop for connection — anniversaries, first dates, breakups, celebrations, the quiet middle-of-the-week “I just want to sit across from you.” Now it’s streaming, sweatpants, and delivery apps. Convenience won, but something intimate got lost in the trade. Food tastes different when you’re not sharing the air with the person you’re eating with. It loses its luster when it reaches your doorstep luke-warm. All of the love the chef put in, destroyed by a careless driver.

5. Cancel Culture and Influencers Are the New Gatekeepers

A single viral video can bury a small restaurant before anyone asks what actually happened. A trending soundbite can crown a place “the best in the city” even if the food is average. Mom-and-pop shops don’t stand a chance against algorithms that reward drama over craft. Marketing used to be word of mouth, lucky breaks from TV personalities, decades of proven deliciousness. Now it’s whoever can shout the loudest, or stir the biggest pot.

A Whisper from the Chef

The industry didn’t change all at once. It shifted in small ways — a shortcut here, a cost cut there, a new system, a new expectation. But the cooks who’ve been here long enough can feel it. Still, good food survives. Good craft survives. And the people who care always find each other in the noise.

If love was spread around as much as hurt and pain, would we appreciate it? We don’t appreciate it now. When did love stop being necessary? It was love that made me double back and apologize for my offenses. It was love that made pursue my passions. It’s love that stops me from speaking bad of others. It’s love that makes me stop to listen. It’s love that keeps me from punching Karens in their face. When did life stop being about love and happiness?

At some point in time, we as a world, decided that care and loyalty was more valuable than love. Yet care and loyalty are a part of love. We’ve given so much selfish love to each other that we don’t even value unconditional love. The concern is how we enhance ourselves. We have turned into a world of users. Each generation going further and further away from love. Viewing it as a burden instead of a privilege. Looking down on fairytales because reality is so far from it. Isn’t that why we need fairytales, though? To allow the heart to wander. To allow a dream to form inside of you and create momentum for a goal. How do we think that we can live without love? Why do we keep trying?

Human nature is stubborn, selfish, and survival driven. Love keeps being looked at through a weak lens. Taking into account how it makes you feel vulnerable, I can see why one would be stubborn. But that rawness is like someone tilling soil because love is often planted. In a healthy situation, the love grows because it’s watered and nurtured. These acts are frowned upon. As if having someone that you care so deeply for, that you would do literally anything to just see them happy, is a bad thing. It’s not. We only find this to be a problem when the seed is not watered or it grows but is not reciprocated. How can you allow someone to devote so much time and love into you and you give what you “can”? I have always given what was needed, giving beyond what even I think I can. If you fall in love while you’re broken, you then rely on them to continue to hold your wound. If you fall in love with someone who’s broken, you wind up breaking down yourself.

We don’t love ourselves enough to love others. If you really loved yourself, could you watch as someone suffers trying to love you? You wouldn’t need it and in turn would set them free. But we are so self absorbed now, that we want others to wallow in our misery with us. We want someone to validate our shortcomings so that we can feel better about ourselves. Even if it costs the ones who love us their own sanity. We will watch as a person dies in a relationship with us, just so that we can have them by our sides.

Personally, I have emptied myself into so many hearts. I have nothing left for me. I allowed so many people to pour love out of me never to replenish the stock. At first I thought it was my Karma for the hearts I broke in my younger years...but I didn’t break that many. Not that life would drag this unreciprocated love song out for the remainder of my time. It really takes away the desire to be loving. It takes away the desire to be. When all I’ve ever wanted was to be in love with someone who was in love with me, what do I keep going for? I don’t have the energy to fall in love again. I don’t even have enough in me to love myself. I’ve stopped wanting to be loved. Now, I only want peace.

So is love enough? I don’t think so. Not because it can’t be, but because we’re human.

Desire to work,

desire to enjoy,

desire to write,

desire to breathe.

I move through life empty,

floating through time unseen,

undiscovered.

Feeling like a dandelion seed in the wind

.

Hoping to land on moist soil,

continually landing on stone

just waiting to be blown around again.

So many words spoken,

so many lies.

So many promises believed,

so many lies.

So much hope given

that’s all that I have…

but that’s gone.

Just riding the wind

giving in,

allowing the loss of control

cuz I’m just too old.

I’ve failed so many times,

what’s the point in trying?

And when you speak your truth,

everyone is offended,

everyone hides,

everyone judges.

It is a human fatal flaw.

No one is without prejudice

and everyone has advice,

none of which they follow themselves.

Everyone can see how to fix you,

but can not fix themselves.

We walk two different paths but

you think you have my answers.

I wasn’t even asking a question.

Each time I encounter a person,

I feel angst.

I don’t want to small talk.

I don’t want to know you.

I don’t want to conversate.

I don’t like people.

They lie, they cheat, they steal,

they deceive, they hurt, and they defend the right to do so.

I spent the younger years of my life

begging for a connection.

Never wanting to be left out.

Never wanting to be alone.

Finding that the more I reach for people,

the more damage they can do.

Therapists who preach positive thinking

are like Arians white-splaining slavery.

If you haven’t been in the dark,

you don’t know what you’re saying.

You get text book ideals of depression,

you can not offer me a way out of something you have never experienced.

I will never trust your judgement.

It’s like the people who think they can parent your kids better than you,

but they have none.

I long to be in independent solitude.

Void of possibility for someone to cause more damage.

Because they will.

Because they’re human.

And that’s okay…

but be human over there.

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is this all that You have for me?

I give all of me in all I do,

does it count for anything.

The wrong I choose, You let me choose

and tell me I’m too far away,

that I’ve moved from under Your covering,

that I’m not obedient enough…

or this is my interpretation.

The evidence leads me to believe so.

I lack the miracles of old,

the strength of Samson,

the diligence of Daniel,

Moses and the Red Sea,

no Goliath for this David,

nor the blessings of Esther.

No thousands have come from my fish.

No manna filling my baskets.

No wine or water…

Just Job.

A life of servitude and loss,

is this my cross?

Is my story so simple that I have no name?

Then why give such strong desire?

Ambition? Passion?

Why gift such things to a person never intended to use them?

O God of my relentless sorrow,

will You not comfort me?

Will You not tame the fires in me until my time?

All I ever wanted was Your answer.

I will settle for Your presence.

Waiting impatiently for the me that You see,

the me that You promised.

Though hope has been replaced by anxiety,

I will still wait impatiently

for the God of everything.

Amen

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With you
There’s no room
To belong

I erased
Every trace
Of my song

The space
That was safe
Is now gone

You are not
What I thought
To be true

Read more

The next three orders were a breeze. These magic wielders were seldom at home, and Zad leaves their packages in magical lock boxes. Each box guarded by a rune symbol that was personally chosen by Zad herself. She was unique because the other factions outside of the magic descendants did not generally practice magic. They were still mere descendants of animalia. The magic animalia were different. They evolved through magic, they did not evolve using magic, so they don’t have access to spells and incantations. They have little use for what Zad delivers. But the Volven and Kashafir, cannot live without her. No one in all of Langeles was more requested, more talked about, or more noticeable. She was no celebrity to them, on the contrary, she was feared. Even loathed by some. The Oken were heavily looked down on by every faction in the Else Lands. Having no real line of descent meant you were an accident, a flaw in nature’s order of cleansing and renewal. Still, Zad was efficient and invaluable at her job. This outweighed the vulgar opinions about her and made her an asset to magic wielders across Langeles.

Zad flew through The Land. House to house, delivering quickly so that she did not encounter individuals roaming the streets. Sun was finally disappearing and the red orange hues in the sky began to dance with purples, violets, and indigos. Opposite the horizon, stars started flooding the night sky in a polychromatic waltz into the darkness. Zad enjoyed it when the atmosphere changed to embrace the evening. The days seemed thick to her. After sunset, the air was perfect. Light, sharp, cool, and energizing. She finished with her rounds in The Land and approached the borders of Langeles. The crystal-like stars dimmed behind the magic and alchemy present near the city. Zad’s feathers stood up on the backs of her wings as she entered the busy streets.

There was always an insane bustle of energy once night fell in the cities. Magic wielders fill the streets. Either selling their wares or offering over priced, unnecessary services. The regular stall owners either avoided eye contact with Zad as she went down the streets, waved fake “hellos” to impress customers, or tried to flag her down to finagle Zad out of a delivery package or two. The newcomers, visitors, or guests of Langeles were almost always taken aback. No one expected to see her let alone expected her to exist.

None of this detoured Zad from her objectives. She moved slower through Langeles than she did through The Lands. She was often met by congestion due to some unwarranted obstacles on the road. Magic wielders seldom consider the feelings or needs of others. Frequently interrupting the lives of others to further their ambitions. After so many cens dealing with these types, Zad did not even react anymore. Instead, she spent the pauses in her forward motions contemplating what questions she would seek answers to first. She had already compiled a mental list of the 10 most important questions. She was now setting her mind on finding out who can answer question one.

Delivering to Langeles wasn’t all bad. There are two magic wielders, though cunning, who Zad didn’t mind visiting. One named Averi who lived in City’s Center (the middle of Langeles) and another named Furdrid who lived on the outer edge of Langeles to the east. Because Zad had the important delivery as her final stop, she decided that she would stop at Furdrid’s home first and Averi’s after. Furdrid was awkwardly “in love” with Zad. It was more of an obsession. Zad was not naive and used this to her advantage. Furdrid would unknowingly give her so much information the longer Zad stayed at his house. Divulging ancient fae fueds from kils ago, magic misusers, animalia love triangles, everything over a pot of tea. This is why Zad ended her routes on the far east of the city. Tonight, she did not have time.

When she arrived at his home, he was waiting outside holding two antique tins. “You will never guess what I found in the market today.” He was excited and shaking the two containers like tea maracas. Furdrid continued “Earl Grey! Earl Grey! Literally 500+kils old, Human Era EARL GREY! Are we in for a treat tonight or whaaaat?” Furdrid held up the tins, shaking them excitedly while gyrating his hips. Zad brought her feathered hands up to her beak and let out a muffled giggle. “Unfortunately, my Furdi-kins, I have to make my delivery to you and head off back into City’s Center.” Furdrid stopped dancing. He turned to his moss-covered abode, rotated his wrist; fingers extended in distinct rune pattern formation. Spelling a symbol near the wall, he snapped his fingers and a branch appeared. It carried his antique finds up the wall and into a window, vanishing out of sight.

Zad walked around her cart towards the back cargo door. By the time she grabbed the handle, Furdrid was already at her side. She let go of the handle and turned towards him. He placed his hand above her shoulder behind her and leaned over her, pressing her to the back cargo door. He whispered to her, “have I upset my sweet Oken friend? Are you attempting to bail on me with those beautiful and soft feathers?” Furdrid became handsy, running his fingers through the feathers around her waist with his free hand. Zad didn’t have time for this tonight. She slid sideways from up under his body, turned around, and unlocked the back door. She reached her long-feathered arm in and grabbed two neatly tied parcels. She locked the door back and handed Furdrid his boxes. He reluctantly took them from her hands, rolling his eyes. “Come now, can’t I entice you to at least return after your rounds?” Furdrid reached for Zad’s softly taloned hand but she withdrew and insisted, “I’ve got to go, Furdi. My last delivery is of high importance, and I have something to take care of tonight when I’m done. I’ll come by and visit soon. I promise.” Furdrid reached for her once again, but Zad used her speed to avert his advances. With a flash she was on her bike, and it was raring to go. She looked over her shoulder at a thoroughly disappointed Furdrid, winked her big green eyes, blew him a kiss, and sped off towards the City’s Center. Furdrid was unamused. He went upstairs to immediately prepare a location potion. He did not like secrets, he had to be “in the know”. What was Zad up to?

And the world doesn’t care.

I dreamed again.

Though support wasn’t there.

And the bills didn’t pause.

I fed my children fragments,

And still dared to imagine more.

I call it foolish,

though I know it’s faith.

Read more

Since hope is imaginary and truth is cruel
What need have I for either
When lies will hold the weights untold
No cryptic words deciphered.

I feel a breeze of retreat
The white flying freely above me
I’ve seen it before, there’s no one at the door
Just regret and misguided beliefs.

I’m so tired
And breathing is now a chore
Eyelids are always heavy
Weights I can’t ignore.

I’m so tired
And there is no sign of an end
No sleep, no rest, just emptiness
Time and time again.

I’ve left everything
All in search of joy, of peace
I’ve left everything
Including me.

Read more

I come not with fire, but with fatigue.

Not with praise, but with a familiar pulse of pain

that repeats like a broken refrain.

You have seen me, haven’t You?

When the fridge is empty,

when love feeds the children but not my soul,

when I am touched only by obligation

never by devotion

I dare not ask for miracles today.

Only for a shoulder.

Only for a whisper that says,

“you are not invisible”...

The ache is not new.

It is the same ache that tucked me in last night

it wears my name like a second skin.

But still, I speak.

And still, I write.

Still, I show up in the silence

because You taught me that even the wilderness

can be holy ground.

So sanctify this ache, Lord.

Let it be the soil where my psalms grow.

Let it be the rhythm of my resilience.

Let it be proof that I am STILL ALIVE!

And still Yours!

Amen

Far from the fairytales you’re told when you’re young.

This magical reciprocation is a fabrication.

It is impossible to mirror love.

Someone will always give more than the other.

Being in real love, true love is unconditional.

What happens when you fall for someone who cannot reciprocate?

Read more

Read more

You don’t tolerate idols, for You know
They cannot hold me like You do.

You made covenant with dust and breath,
With trembling hearts and wandering feet.

Read more

I don’t claim to understand magic, but I’ve lived close enough to it to recognize its patterns. Here are seven things I believe about it — offered as they came, honest and unpolished.

7. Magic Is Older Than My Understanding

I don’t always recognize it at first, but it’s been here longer than my explanations.

Magic was practiced in ancient civilizations long before any of us had language for it. Áṣẹ, the life force; the divine authority, moved through the people of ancient Nigeria, Benin, and Togo, shaping energy, manifestation, and power.

Ešēšu, the incantation magic of Mesopotamia, was practiced from 4500–1900 BCE across Iraq, Syria, Turkey, and Iran. It’s the oldest written magical system on Earth.

In Australia, Tjukurpa has been in motion for more than 50,000 years. Practicing dreaming, a creation law, and working in ancestral reality. Dreamtime is one of the oldest spiritual systems we know.

On the western side of the world, Mesoamerican magic tied itself to astronomy, time, and shapeshifting. In Mexico, Guatemala, and Belize, K’uh was understood as sacred essence; a divine animating force.

What proves true to me is this: magic has been real for too many people, across too many cultures, over too much time, to not hold validity.

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6. Magic Reveals What I Avoid

It has a way of illuminating corners I’d rather leave unexamined. Magic doesn’t just show you its wonder, it shows you your blind spots. It deals with who or what you really are at your core. In order for energy to flow, it must be uninterrupted. When I search for answers to problems, often magic forces me to delve inward, finding the obstacle that blocks the flow. If it’s elemental, the object is often harmony. When it’s manifestation, the vessel must be ready.

Ifá (Yoruba) divination doesn’t give you what you want to hear, it gives you what’s true. The person practicing this divination must be honest about their intentions, their wrongdoing, and their emotional state.

With Dreamtime practices, Tjukurpa specifically, dreaming reveals truths about identity, responsibility, and imbalance. You can’t enter Dreaming with denial. It shows you the thing that you are avoiding.

In Ancient Egyptian Ma’at practices any ritual done out of alignment with truth was believed to fail. Ma’at is truth, balance, and moral alignment. Self honesty was the first requirement.

Mesopotamian Ešēšu is incantation magic. Incantations required the practitioner to confess fear, guilt, and misalignments. The magic only took if the practitioner acknowledged the real issue.

In more modern magic, Tarot operates within the same realms of honesty. If you lie to yourself, the cards call you out. It’s a mirror. The cards reveal denial, avoidance, and emotional truth. Energy work, Reiki, believe you can’t move energy you refuse to acknowledge. Energy work can expose emotional blockage, suppressed grief, as well as any unresolved anger.

In every era, in every system, the pattern is the same: Magic needs a blank canvas. Practicing it requires self‑exposure.

5. Magic Honors Honesty

You can lie to your friends. You can lie to your family. You can even lie to yourself. Magic functions within true natures. Self awareness is often the key to open spiritual gateways. I’ve read so many mental health books, all telling me that being honest with myself and admittance is the first step to being whole or overcoming my mental obstacle. In conversations with my therapists, I am always encouraged to go to the root of an intention or thought. This way I am proceeding from the truest start. Those who practice magic have long since understood the importance of truth.

In Ancient Greece, the Pythia didn’t give answers to flatter you. The oracle responded to truthfulness and sincerity. If you approach with deception, the message came back distorted or harsh.

Norse Seiðr required the practitioner to confront their true motives, their emotional state, and their hidden fears. A dishonest heart disrupts the ritual. The magic only sees truth.

Qi flow depends on internal truth. In Ancient Chinese Qi practices, if you deny grief, anger, or any imbalance, the qi stagnates. Honesty restores movement.

In today’s Shadow Work, the practice is impossible without self honesty. The magic happens only when you name your patterns, admit your contradictions, and acknowledge your projections. The shadow honors honesty by transforming it. With mediumship/intuitive work, intuition sharpens when you’re true to yourself. If you’re in denial, the signal gets muddy. Truth will clarify this channel.

Across time the rule is the same. Magic honors honesty because honesty creates alignment. When you’re truthful with yourself, magic has something real to respond to.

4. Magic Responds to Alignment NOT Effort

Over time, I think that magic has been romanticized and embellished in a way that we see sorcerers and magicians as powerful beings that wield energy to their desires. The reality is closer to the practitioner becoming a vessel. The most successful were those who were aligned fully with the truth of themselves, the situation, and the environment they were in. I admit, I too wanted to say a magic word or wave a magic wand to control the outcomes of certain situations. Only to discover that there was far more depth to it.

Wu Wei is the principle of effortless action; not laziness but moving in harmony with the natural flow. If you push, the magic collapses. If you align, the energy moves on its own. Taoist sorcery, qi work, and early alchemical practices all depended on this: forcing breaks the spell; alignment completes it.

In the Vedas, rituals weren’t powered by intensity, they were powered by inner alignment with ṛta, the cosmic order. A perfectly performed ritual done with a misaligned heart was believed to fail. A simple ritual done in truth and alignment was believed to work. The gods honored right intention, not effort.

Ma’at isn’t just truth, it is cosmic alignment. Every magical act, every prayer, every offering had to be in harmony with Ma’at. You could chant for hours, sacrifice, pray, perform complex rituals…but if you were out of alignment with truth, balance, or moral order, the magic was void.

A shaman couldn’t “force” a journey. They had to align with the spirits, the land, and their own emotional truth. The timing was crucial. If they pushed too hard, the spirits withdrew. If they aligned, the path opened.

In Mesoamerica, magic tied to the Tzolk’in calendar wasn’t about effort, it was about timing. You had to align with the day-sign, the energy, or the cosmic rhythm. Working against the calendar was considered pointless. Working with it amplified everything.

Ancient magic didn’t reward grinding, striving, or forcing. It rewarded alignment; with truth, with timing, with self, with the cosmos. Effort is human. Alignment is magical.

3. Magic Meets Me Where I Am

Magic doesn’t wait for me to be perfect. It doesn’t require me to be healed, aligned, calm, or spiritually pristine. It works with the version of me that shows up. Even if that version is tired, conflicted, grieving, angry, or unsure. Magic responds to your state, not your performance. I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to “raise my vibration” per say. I don’t have to fake clarity. Magic works with the truth of the moment and aligns from within.

Àṣẹ flows through whatever state you’re in (joy, grief, confusion) because it’s life force. It meets you where you are and moves from there.

With Taoist Wu Wei, you don’t have to force yourself into a different emotional state. You work with the flow you’re already in.

A shaman doesn’t wait to be perfect. They journey from their current emotional landscape. The spirits meet them there.

The oracles of Ancient Greece didn’t require purity, only presence. The gods spoke to the person as they were.

Magic doesn’t demand that you be more than you are. It meets you exactly where you stand and moves from there.

2. Magic Asks Something of Me

In 10^th grade, my sophomore year in high school, I took an Economics class. My teacher was pretty young and hip for a high school teacher, so a lot of the information he imparted stuck with me over the years. Specifically, TINSTAFL. There is no such thing as free lunch. Everything you get comes at a cost. Magic is no different. In order to maintain balance, I can’t just take from the wells of magic. There will always be a price.

Magic is not passive. It’s not decoration. It’s not a mood or an aesthetic or a thing that “just happens.” Magic is relational. It requires attention, willingness, participation, responsibility, alignment, and presence. Magic asks you to show up, not perfectly, just honestly.

Some Ancient examples of magic relationships are: Ifá (Yoruba)- You must come with honesty, humility, and readiness to act on the message. Ifá doesn’t just tell you the truth, it asks you to respond to it. Egyptian Ma’at-Magic required moral alignment. You couldn’t perform a ritual and ignore the imbalance in your life. Ma’at demanded action. Taoist Wu Wei-You had to release force and ego. Magic asked for surrender, not effort. Shamanic Journeying-A shaman had to prepare themselves; emotionally, spiritually, energetically. The spirits met them halfway, not all the way.

Modern examples of where magic asks something of you are Tarot-The cards give insight, but you must integrate it. Magic asks for reflection and follow‑through. Manifestation (real, not pop‑culture)-You must confront your beliefs, shift your assumptions, and act in alignment. Magic asks for participation. Energy Work-You must acknowledge your blockages and be willing to release them. Magic asks for openness.

The core truth is that magic is not a spectator sport. It’s a collaboration.

It asks for:

• your honesty

• your courage

• your willingness to change

• your participation in your own transformation

Magic moves, but only if you move with it.

1. Magic Requires Faith

I know it seems basic but it is the center of magic’s ability to work. In my life, I have found that whatever a person believes will come to pass. Period. The extent of my faith is the extent of my abilities. We shroud faith in religion and limit what we truly can believe in. ALL religious texts have touched on things that we would define as unbelievable and yet we choose to believe. Faith is the most powerful system humanity holds. It has both built and crumbled civilizations. The root of all hope is belief.

In Ancient Egypt, Heka wasn’t “magic”, it was the activation of divine power through belief. Egyptians believed words only worked if the speaker believed them, rituals only activated if the heart was aligned, and intention was the fuel. Heka literally meant “authoritative utterance powered by belief.” No belief, no power.

In West Africa, Àṣẹ is the divine force that makes things happen, but it only flows when the practitioner believes in their own authority to speak it. The Yoruba say “Àṣẹ follows conviction.” And, “Àṣẹ dies in a doubtful mouth.” Faith is the ignition.

With Mesopotamian Ešēšu (4500–1900 BCE), incantations were believed to work only when the practitioner trusted the words, trusted the gods, and trusted the ritual. Doubt disrupted the spell. Faith completed it.

Ancient Greek theurgists believed the gods responded to inner certainty, not outer performance. A ritual done without belief was considered empty, a shell with no fire inside.

Tarot doesn’t work if you treat it like a joke. It works when you trust the mirror, trust the message, and trust your intuition. Faith sharpens the reading.

Manifestation / Law of Assumption, the entire system is built on one truth. You receive what you believe. Not what you say. Not what you hope. What you believe. Faith is the mechanism.

Prayer Magic. Practiced by Christian, Jewish, Islamic, Indigenous, and many across different traditions, prayer is considered powerless without belief in the divine, belief in the outcome, and belief in the connection. Faith is the voltage.

Likewise within Energy Work (Reiki, Pranic Healing). Energy moves where belief directs it. If you don’t believe the energy can shift, it won’t. If you do, it responds. Faith opens the channel.

Every culture, every system, every lineage says the same thing. Magic responds to belief. Magic amplifies belief. Magic collapses without belief. Faith is not decoration, it is the activation mechanism. Magic requires belief the way fire requires oxygen.

These seven beliefs are only the parts of magic I’ve been able to name — the pieces that have revealed themselves through experience, lineage, and the quiet work of paying attention. Magic is older than our languages, deeper than our explanations, and far less concerned with being understood than being experienced. It asks for honesty, alignment, participation, and faith, but it never demands perfection. What I’ve shared here is simply the surface, the part that allowed itself to be seen by me. The rest of magic lives in the unseen, in the spaces between words, in the places humans haven’t yet learned to describe. And it will reveal itself in its own time.

Knowing that it’s not

Wishing it wasn’t true.

Wishing it was just a passing thought.

But I’m wrong.

I’m wrong if I stay

I’m empty if I go...

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