i am of water, earth, and fire

i am of infinite possibilities for

i am everything

and nothing.

my existence continues long after,

i physically leave this earth.

so i do not dwell,

on what is.

instead i lean into accepting,

what is and from there

lean into my intuition

to guide me on the next sept

the path,

and once i forgo the notion

that life is linear,

i know i can come back

time, and time,

again.

leaving a legacy

here and there

built on my own truths,

and knowings.

a note

this space is not about fixing yourself. it’s about listening to what has always been there. honoring your own truths. if this space nourishes you and you feel called to support it, paid subscriptions help keep the altar tended.

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nichole is a writer and artist exploring healing, unraveling, creativity, and the quiet work of coming home to oneself.

i looked back

in the mirror

and wondered

why i ever

believed i was

never beautiful

why i spent

so much time

believing i was

anything other

than kind, strong, brave,

and resilient.

i started giving the loving,

kind energy i deserved

by first offering it to the person i

was gazing back at.’

what i’m moving through

every morning recently i go outside and read through what i consider my ‘bible’, women who run with the wolves. it echoes so much untold yet remembered in my soul, as i believe many of experience once we pick up this book.

this morning while reading chapter 10: ‘clear water: nourishing the creative life’, i couldn’t help but feel so moved by it. and the theme of creativity has been moving through me this week.

it’s not that creativity feels hard, but it’s brining creative ideas through fruition that seems to be where i feel the most resistance. which coincides with a question i recently asked myself after a womb workshop i did.

“even if my fears are true, can i still choose this?” whatever this is.

on page 317 of women who run with the wolves she writes “let your fear leap otu and bite you so you can get i over with and go on. you’ll get over it. the fear will pass. in this case, it is better if you meet it head-on, feel it, and get it over with, than to keep using it to avoid cleaning up the river”.

on my desk and mostly in my head and over the span of six journals you’ll find so many ideas i’ve had recently and some that have been sitting for some time. i know i’m not the only woman to have a river of ideas cousing through me only to allow them to sit and live on paper or in our mind.

so i’m challenging myself to let those fears bite me, even if i’m unsure as to what it really is i fear. is it visbility? is it madness? is it unsurety? what i do know is i must create. i must produce, i must do the very things i want to do. and that is just that.

last week i “relaunched” two creative works i published but never really talk about or advertise. but in just ensuring they at least live somewhere accessible, was the first step in “leaping out”. and so how i move forward with them is the next challenge. traditional marketing isn’t for me: i.e funnels and email challenges. i simply am trusting that the work i create will find it’s way, but i have to choose the way that feels most potent for me. even if that means going against the grain of what we deem “successful” or simply “the way.”

things i’m loving lately

we recently took in TWO more cats in our home. we are pet lovers and we just couldn’t say no to this sweet mama and her baby. now that we have more indoor animals i decided i needed to stay on top of the pet odor and hair in this house.

so i invested in this non-toxic surface cleaner that i can use literally on all surfaces of the house in addition to this spray that smells magical. our senior dog farts a lot, and she can get so stinky, must be her age. but i like to spray all the dog beds with this mrs.meyers spray.

a splurge for me was investing in the pura home refresher’s and i’m impressed. bamboo is my favorite smell. having the app to customize when they are on and adjusting the intensity is super neat.

check out all my pet friendly home recommendations as of late.

lastly i had to share this tomato pie that i made last sunday 11/10

current rhythms

recently i’ve mentioned womb workshops and i’ve also been starting some kundalini practices. there are two mentors that i follow and learn from for these practices

elevate with elie stiles

the garden with india earl

if there is one thing that has been a huge part of journey to connecting to self is connecting to my womb space, and using my own life force energy through kundalini. i’ll continue to share recommendations, learnings and insights a long the way!

questions to sit with

‘even if my fears are true, can i still choose this?’

‘what is it that you want?’

a note

this space is not about fixing yourself. it’s about listening to what has always been there. honoring your own truths. if this space nourishes you and you feel called to support it, paid subscriptions help keep the altar tended.

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nichole is a writer and artist exploring healing, unraveling, creativity, and the quiet work of coming home to oneself.

i’m not sure why i have never made tomato pie before but last summer was the first time i had ever heard of this and WOW, i’m obsessed.

Read more

i do not let tears fall

when i think of you,

and what you have done to me.

you hope that i have forgotten,

or that i forgave.

even better i bet you think

i am still delusional.

delusion must means knowing

right from wrong.

no i have not forgotten,

but it no longer festers like a open wound.

my forgiveness is the scar i bear,

so that i may not forget

the harm done but

I have learned to live on

with the resentment inside me.

i hope you revel in your own sorrow.

watch your own tears fall.

at what you have done to me.

for you won’t forget.

try as you might,

to rationalize the hurt.

the marks you left internally,

and externally.

no i won’t forget that.

because long ago i decided

you no longer have the power.

for i have had it all along.

you thought you could take it,

mold me, shape me into a version

that allowed you to hurt me

over and over again.

you were wrong.

i take the scars,

especially the unseen,

and carry them with me as reminder

that i have the strength to

not repeat what you have done to me.

forgiveness is folly.

it is my remembrance that drives me

back to remembering who i was before

you hurt me.

over and over again.

a note

this space is not about fixing yourself. it’s about listening to what has always been there. honoring your own truths. if this space nourishes you and you feel called to support it, paid subscriptions help keep the altar tended.

Subscribe now

nichole is a writer and artist exploring healing, unraveling, creativity, and the quiet work of coming home to oneself.

this week

why does summer truly feel so much shorter with kids? this summer has been filled with dance, pool days, and crafting. there are so many mornings I wake up and wonder: what will we do today? what should we go do? and honestly, I can’t get myself to want to go anywhere.

I often fight my own guilt in feeling like I must be doing more with my kids, while I know this isn’t true it’s a common internal battle. if it wasn’t for social media would I still feel this way? if it wasn’t from my own rebellion against societal norms, would I still feel this way?

the need to justify and explain my reasoning for simply not having a desire to go and do all the things still wants to come through. but I want to offer some introspection that maybe we are already doing enough. maybe we just need to allow ourselves to be. to stop picking ourselves apart for all that we aren’t doing, and celebrate more of what is actually happening.

time for us to relax, recoup, be creative, to be bored, to do nothing, and to just be.

what i’m moving through

vulnerability, confidence, and choosing to keep showing up even when it is daunting. on a random Monday this week we came home from swimming. I had found a new song that just really hit me deep in my soul. I turned it on in the house and put my phone on record and started moving. improv has always been hard, naturally it is. especially when you don’t do it often.

as a dancer, I've always allowed myself to move freely but there has always been my own judgement attached to it. I've never been able to improv and feel confident in my movement. judging every single thing about myself. in fact it’s hard for me to even feel like I'm good enough to dance, still, another analysis for another day.

so I decided to share myself improving to this song on instagram and I watched the video of myself dancing over and over again, and I tried so hard not to judge myself. I watched I over and over to see if it was worthy enough to share, until I just finally clicked publish.

this wasn’t a means to perform to get likes or to get feedback. it was to be able to allow myself to share parts of myself I longed to share without the need to hide away.

things i’m loving lately

another version of our weekly protein balls but this week i opted to blend the oats and include mini m&m’s!

refrigerator pickle recipe

these sourdough popovers (add shredded white cheddar ontop) this pan is perfect!

women who run with the wolves

these tube tops i have been living in during the summer

this cotton yarn to make simple crocheted ponchos

as a homeschool mom with young kids i use this tablecloth and don’t mind the various paint stains and marker stains bc lets be honest it’s going to happen

my new favorite chapstick

a backpack cooler to take to the pool has been a game changer

current rhythms

for so long I've allowed my own OCD and need for control to dictate my day to day. but recently I've been slowly letting go of more and more. instead of vacuuming every single day, I've started doing it every other day. while this may seem silly to some people, it’s almost crippling to me. maybe it’s anxiety maybe it is OCD, whatever the label for this behavior of mine, it does cripple me. to wake up to a house with hair on the floor from the animals. but this ability to let go a little more has been building. and while I just simply have accepted this is who I am. someone that is a clean freak with a chronic need for things to be some sort of immaculate.

but don’t let me fool you, when no one is looking (my kids) I'll sweep crumbs under the kitchen island or I'll throw something away simply because I can’t deal with it. I don’t care so much anymore about the organization of my fridge, just that we have access to meals and snacks.

this summer has allowed me to let go just a little bit, so that I'm not a raging maniac in the mornings because there are little messes everywhere.

it has only taken me seven years of being a mother to get to this place, but I'm cheering myself on for loosening the reigns on my need for control.

a question to sit with

maybe the very things that scare us, or make us question are the very things to pursue. maybe it is the questioning that is prying us away from conditioning of the mind. the more I pull away from having so much structure (especially as a homeschooling mom) I question: ami doing enough, will they be okay? in reality they are will be just fine.

so for this weeks question to sit with: what do you question about yourself or your day to day? where has societal conditioning taught you to question yourself in the first place?

closing

“we just act in our own true way and do not draw back from or hide our natural beauty. like creatures, we just are and it is right.” - clarissa pinkola estés

a note

this space is not about fixing yourself. it’s about listening to what has always been there. honoring your own truths. if this space nourishes you and you feel called to support it, paid subscriptions help keep the altar tended.

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nichole is a writer and artist exploring healing, unraveling, creativity, and the quiet work of coming home to oneself.

but i am to live this one just as wholly.

a lifetime,

so i ought not to waste it on,

silly things.

yet be silly, living!

it is not my responsibility,

your perception of me

though i hope you know how my heart runs true.

down in the woods,

is where my wild woman sleeps.

when i am lost,

i find her,

in the whispers of the wind.

the truth, is the journey i seek

tuning in, she is free.

the noise, she is far from self.

but she is never far.

in the trees bristling,

she senses.

in the dew drop of falling rain

in her children’s laughter

and the rumble of the thunder.

her only desire,

to live fully.

for a lifetime such as this,

is just as important as the ones

before and after.

it is within this one,

i found her.

a note

this space is not about fixing yourself. it’s about listening to what has always been there. honoring your own truths. if this space nourishes you and you feel called to support it, paid subscriptions help keep the altar tended.

Subscribe now

nichole is a writer and artist exploring healing, unraveling, creativity, and the quiet work of coming home to oneself.

i’m driving to dance one evening, even though i wasn’t sure if i felt like going and was fighting between my own inner battle of old habits and knowing what would put me in a better state of how my day went.

on the way i saw a deer walk across the road, it slowed the same moment i did and turned to look at me.

later that night on my way home i played florence and the machine rolled down my windows and cranked the volume to 27. i put my hands out the window and truly felt free.

not in a way where i felt shackled to a life unwanted.

like i was peeling back to touch the infinite vast wonder of the meaning of life.

because it’s not found in grandeur moments or experiences.

but in short instances where we are able to visibly touch the oneness, the miracle of life. to witness it as if we were the one we were watching from afar.

for maybe i was those three cardinals who flew past me as i belted out in my tone dear voice to stand by me.

this week

suddenly with the closing of this week i wondered, truly sat with this wondering of: when was the last time i spoke to myself nicely? how have i been downplaying my own bravery?

i realized as of late, that i have always judged myself so harshly. held such high expectations, to which i believe can be healthy in ways. but i realized that this voice i hear in my head in times of turmoil, isn’t my own.

but i’ve been managing better to discern the voice, to remind myself to not stoop to its level of judgement and negativity. to remind myself of my own humanity, and that above all else i’m doing well. i am honest, i am kind, and i am grateful for my capabilities.

so often we turn out gratitude outward.

• i am grateful for the morning sun, and mother earths warm soil.

• i am grateful for slow mornings when i get to sleep in and not have to rush.

lately, i’m practicing turning that gratitude inward as a means to experiment with how it would transcend into how i inhabit life.

• i am grateful for my bravery to do things, even when it feels a little uncomfortable.

• i am grateful for my insight and inner voice, that allows me to resonate and relate with others.

• i am grateful for my ability to speak my truth, especially when it feels scary.

what i’m moving through

there have been many moments of struggle. as it would be when you’re home 24/7 with a 7 year old and a 2 year old. i wake up a lot of mornings feeling like i should be doing more, and instead of spiraling i remind myself i am doing enough. i don’t harp on being too hard on myself, or feel too bad if i don’t feel like leaving the house. i’m basically tired of picking myself apart and feeling ‘lack’.

so even though a lot of days can be trying and i end up acting like a child when i don’t get my way, i’m sitting in knowing how incredible life is when we pull back the lens. at how silly it is to take things silly, while also validating the struggle.

it’s a teeter-totter of emotions, and i’m just learning to ride the ebb and flow of it all. because i certainly don’t want to look back and feel like i wasn’t fully inhabiting my life. that’s what has been moving through me the most: the ability to fully inhabit this miraculous wondrous life i have.

my daughter this week wrote a card to my husband and said “it is okay isn’t it?” and it hit us both deeply. she wrote it in response to plans getting changed one evening to which she wrote a card ‘i am so so sorry you and mommy both can’t go to dance but, ‘it is okay isn’t it?’.

it is okay, it really is.

things i’m loving lately

protein oat balls for my kiddos using collagen for added benefits

this bikini + skirt combo has boosted my confidence

downy folia for my laundry because it smells like a memory i can’t quite place

women who run with the wolves as a daily reading when i have time (i recently purchased the hardcover version bc it’s way bigger but the paperback is perfect for having in your bag)

living in tube tops this summber bc i can’t do bras anymore

new sunnies bc my youngest keeps breaking mine

a crispy diet coke + true lime (always in my bag)

my new favorite chapstick!!!

a question(s) to sit with

how can you release the weight of expectations that this version of you has outgrown or no longer benefits from?

who told you, that you weren’t doing enough?

how can you speak graciously to yourself?

closing

in closing i want to encourage you, to lean into your own truth. who are you when no one else is looking? are you that person always? do you still hideaway parts of yourself because you’re scared of what others will think?

“to truly heal, we must say our truth” - clarissa pinkola estés

in this lifetime i believe it’s my purpose to encourage, inspire, and empower other women to tell their stories, speak their truths, and find comfort in the feeling of embodying your most wild, mad self. the more we can encourage one another to break-free of stigma, stereotypes, and the patriarchy that keeps us quiet and small: the more we can lead one another to our most innate power. we are so powerful, do not forget that.

a note

this space is not about fixing yourself. it’s about listening to what has always been there. honoring your own truths. if this space nourishes you and you feel called to support it, paid subscriptions help keep the altar tended.

Subscribe now

nichole is a writer and artist exploring healing, unraveling, creativity, and the quiet work of coming home to oneself.

there was a quiet undeniable reorientation taking place in my life. and as i circle back to this particular notebook — to which i am currently transcribing for my work, i want to share my notes, insights and findings from april. everything spirals, and i think coming back to previous writing always finds me in ways i didn’t realize i needed.

below our the notes i wrote down in april, some that may not fully make sense. they weren’t written as an essay. i don’t want to polish them or make them more digestible. i left them mostly as it was written.

words to me, carry something beyond explanation. they can become mirrors, triggers even. sometimes awakening us a remembrance we didn’t know we had. take what resonates, and leave the rest.

threshold ~ the moment i stopped relating myself through past identities and began to relate through presence, sensation and truth arising

seeking the path —> being in it

inner opening —> symbolic images —> creative expression : my nature operating system

YOU ARE NOT MEANT TO CONTROL THE PROCESS, YOU ARE MEANT TO HOLD THE CONTAINER FOR IT!

the container: “can i create a life that can hold this way of being?”

what does this look like?

1 - slowness and space — unstructured time, quiet mornings, space for things to arise

2 - consistent expression — writing as a primary channel, imagery from truth not performance, all for circulation not output

3 - somatic movement - spinal waves, hip circles, breath work. this is how my system processes energy, integrates emotion, stabilizes expansion

4 - integration and embodiment — what does this feel like?!

i am no longer in activation, this is: integration and stabilization

what conditions allow me to feel most like myself right now?

where do i feel tempted to rush?

what does holding myself look like each day?

when things are quiet, you are not losing it, you are integrating

overwhelmed? you’re in expression or somatic movement

you stopped questioning.

integration:

allow what opened to reorganize how you live feel and create.

this is when your nervous system catches up to your awareness, your body stabilizes.

my practice — my own personal myth:

you are recognizing your own patterns

tracking your evolution

staying connected to your truth.

coherence:

when you are aligned between your inner systems: thoughs, emotions, body, actions

you simply feel like yourself!

integration creates coherence! life becomes less forced, more responsive, more true.

why haven’t things worked before?!

because i was trying to build something my body didn’t fully believe in.

instead i need gentle coherent structures that allow things to meet me.

how april speaks to me now

april, and may felt like really big shifts/remembrances/inner knowings they were so deep and profound i truly felt i was moving into the passageway that i was meant to be on.

then june rolled around, and quite honestly the overwhelm had been sinking in quite a bit. part of my old identity wanted to figure out what the hell was happening, why i kept feeling this way — and so i decided to sit with and pull back. pull back from social media, and tune inwards to self.

i think the end of june and july has been a reminder that i don’t have to have anything figured out, but what i need is to tune in. in times where it feels like what the fuck is going on, to lean back into the very things i wrote about in april: to stop questioning. to move my body when i’m overwhelmed. to remember the path i walk, is full of support.

that the noise is what keeps me out of sorts from feeling like myself.

when i tune inward, inhabit life fully, and trust there is truly nothing else for me to do other than follow inspired action. to release the weight to have every step seemingly perfect, and to follow those little nudges.

tuning in more is like finding the right frequency on the radio. it’s finding the right tune, and living in it without questioning your own power. it is discernment of noise and truth: intuition. i am learning to listen to my own knowing, instead of allowing conditioning of the mind to falter my being.

if this space nourishes you and you feel called to support it, paid subscriptions help keep the altar tended.

nichole is a writer and artist exploring healing, unraveling, creativity, and the quiet work of coming home to oneself.

you know how we have become a society who inherently starts creating beliefs and values based off of people we admire on the internet? we believe that someones 5 am morning routine will be the key to unlocking consistent habits in our lives. we believe that success is a place of arrival, not a journey. we believe that showing up ‘authentically’ is the key to this success. all the while we still live in tremendous amounts of overwhelm, and doubt about ourselves.

we keep comparing ourselves to people we admire because in them we see something we crave and desire. so easy is it for us to start believing our own lives lack, something we cannot name. i believe this is something that happens so unconsciously, because once we start scrolling it’s receiving all this noise that imprints onto us. our brains are receiving all sorts of information so fast, and suddenly we create these beliefs. and even though they can make us feel a little icky, we keep doing it over and over. i am entirely guilt of this the past month.

the more i’m off of my phone, and inhabiting my own daily life, i don’t crave or yearn so much. i stop feeling so inadequate and stop believing someday i’ll get my shit together and finally wake up at 5 am. my life doesn’t feel anything less than incredible, because i stopped believing i should compare my life to anyone on the internet. how unfair of us, to compare ourselves to people we don’t even know. or people we admire.

below i am sharing several insights that having an over arching theme of dissolution, grief, avoidance, accepting.

“i am in the threshold of two identities. i’m trying to close a timeline right now and enter into another.

we have to begin living from what we know, which feels so messy at first. every time i scroll social media i am temporarily leaving myself.

maybe this next chapter is about refusing to abandon who i am. this season isn’t asking me to create more systems or structure.

how do i build a life that honors the woman i actually am, right now?

maybe this season doesn’t require more insight but implementing practices. i am grieving the woman i thought i needed to become the one who wakes at dawn with rituals and immaculate practices.

another woman emerges, the one right now. who has a toddler “still” sleeping in bed. she looks less polished but she feels more true. more in her power.

Read more

‘re-calibrating, after a week (almost) of joy etched within simple conversations, company, sunshine even during the tantrums. sitting with, and moving through. joy in new milestones, as the years feel smaller – yet expansive. welcome shadows, has become the passageway [i am being led down] soothing that inner voice, the one we all know so familiarity, the one narrating our own demise, the voice that makes us feel bad about self. deprecating our own worth by picking ourselves apart into doom. until we welcome the parts we put down, shame or belittle will we be able to breathe. because we stopped feeling ashamed about those bad feelings. we don’t need permission to embrace our creative life, which include the parts we suppress to be the good girls we were taught we should be. here, finally! we step into our innate power. power of creation and love’

preservation of self

the yearning to become a curatde version of some sort of self that is held highly in your minds eye, the one where she has it all figured out and she achieves all her desires and sits with it all. she’s a version of self that is so far removed from who lay beneath the skin. your soul doesn’t need some curated version of life that we see advertised to us in so many ways, we stopped questioning what our worth really meant. tying it to idealized versions built in our mind because we feed ourselves redundant versions of the same things we see online. we can’t quite figure out why we are lost, when we are re so busy looking elsewhere to find inspiration for the life it is we want to create. the more lost we get in our own worlds, and inhabit it the more i am realizing how free it feels. to not desire to throw my life up on a chart and compare it to someone else having their own life experience.

when you stop abandoning the person you are now, including the parts you put down, and love that version of yourself… you fall into unconditional love. we do these things unconsciously, not inherently: putting ourselves down. nitpicking every choice, emotion, or misstep. we don’t actively seek to put ourselves down, it’s become the voice that rules. the one where you pick yourself apart because no one ever taught you to speak nicely to yourself. to feel good about yourself, and who you are even when you fuck up and make a mistake. you sought so hard to become perfect, be the person who doesn’t yell, or make a bad decision. the person who lets theirself fall apart as a parent in front of their kids, and doesn’t feel ashamed because you’re allowing yourself to show them the repair in real time.

i stopped trying to be the perfect person in how i respond and interact, and trust that by letting go of the need to control, letting go of emotions that used to become my entire being – i am becoming an honest person. i am living my truth, showing up in the best way possible, and taking accountability. all the while knowing the real “work” is to unconditionally love the person i am. to not question her worth, her validity, or place and be able to step into rooms with my heart open regardless of if i thought i should have responded better, acted differently.

all of this has made room for joy.

tenderness without demanding purity from it.

letting my soul live, without leaving behind self.

allowing contradictions, be what they are.

“my shadow, she is my untamed creator.

she is life force.

destruction as a means to liberate.

love a reflection,

projection of what i see in front of me.

what i open my heart to,

how much strength it takes to lean into softness.

to caress the ache and welcome the shame.”

dissolving control

the paradox of shadow is that embracing them, means dissolving the control over self.

the same lesson over and over weaving in a spiral into different arcs of my life. realizing the more i surrender the more it ripples into how i show up in life. the ability to discern situations, and pull back my own lens in navigating them. emotions don’t own my being, or hinder my capability to simultaneously feel utter joy. rooms i walk into i don’t feel small, but i can still stay quiet because i never needed to be loud to be heard. i just needed to make room for self. i feel seen, simply by showing up as i am without the need to shrink the truest parts of myself.

they say to stay consistent as a writer (or whatever is you are or do), and to have your community and audience have some sort of expectation from you. so most of the time we are taught to publish the same things at the same type of the month — i mean that is what a ‘monthly newsletter’ is right?

but lately, i’ve been questioning the way i move through life. especially in this season.

where i just sat down to write in my journal (shared below), and suddenly realized i hadn’t drafted or published my monthly newsletter. and for a moment, i felt that pressure, just for a passing moment, the need to explain myself, to maintain expectation, to arrive consistenly.

but i think this month’s newsletter is meant to arrive exactly like this. late. uncertain.

because uncertainty has been the very thing teaching me lately.

but i am learning to sit in uncertainty, that life is uncertain, and unexpected and when you’re in a season of deep release and surrender, you find yourself sitting in that uncomfortable space where showing up without a desire to be understood, you realize uncertainty has been living within the way you show up.

journal entry: 6/1

‘i have not journeyed to my womb in many days, nor have i picked up this pen or moved my hips in release. but i have lived so fully with my little family. i have laughed with others, shared time and conversations, and even though parenting has felt the hardest i sit in reverence, gratitude, and pride. i a m realizing, remembering, things are not all or nothing. welcome the messy parts — the dark parts inside, and not feeling guilt or shame. parenting my inner child by offering the compassion and empathy, i never had. that in order to give that, i must show myself how that feels. this is how i’ve been learning to not embody every heightened emotion, while allowing self to inhabit my own life without guilt for. i am no longer overextending myself with shame. rather, my strength gathers when i’m able to give [presence] what is in front of me, and offered to me. i’m in positions that allow me to sit and receive desires without overexerting, affirming it is on its way, but i’ll never know in the exact way. uncertainty, because i opened up. despite all the circumstances, i choose to open my heart even wider — especially the love i have for myself. i read somewhere that “uncertainty is not a problem to be solved, it is the condition of being alive”: and that’s what i’ve experienced lately being alive.’

this uncertainty i carry, feels like a passageway. realizing it was never something i needed to figure out, this space is holy. it is erotic. it is not easy by any means. because even thought i can say how alive i feel, there’s still grief there. but it’s not consuming me. i’m not abandoning the hard parts, and the need to sit with those emotions but i’m allowing myself to live alongside the hard. where before i would believe the hard was it, that i had to wait for it to be solved before truly immersing myself.

this full moon feels like a paradox to me, being deeply fulfilled but exhausted. loving motherhood but not enjoying it. desiring more without needing to feel ungrateful. living spiritually without abandoning the daily.

and that is why you feel both uncertain and alive at the same time.and so if there is something i have to offer this month in my own personal experience is that there is so much fullness, and life when we open up to it. truly.

a reoccurring theme that continues to weave into my life:

presence, over performance.

here i was, i was baking/cleaning/all the things, and a song comes on. i quickly grab my headphones and tripod to record some improv.

the tripod is setup and the song is playing, loudly on the headphones. i start moving and remind myself i’m not impressing, anyone.

i repeat to self: ‘this isn’t a performance, just let go’. because i still try to control my improv, i want to control the next move, already judging how i might present myself. so instead, i want to breathe presence into the moment, the instrumental music, the downbeats, and let it lovingly flow through me and truly connect deeply.

and i get the smile on my face to experience liberation like this. a practice, not something you achieve suddenly. and then i realize — my phone never recorded.

instead, i took it as a reminder “are you doing this for yourself or to perform?”

anger didn’t arise, but curious contemplation. a rising theme, over and over. one i’m continuing to explore.

what happens when you stop witnessing yourself through the eyes of others?

life moves in seasons, that either feel like sprints or a steady race. and the more that i have found myself moving against and resisting the very nature of the path laid before me, the more i find myself in turmoil.

if there has been one giant over-arching lesson i’ve come to discover from the past two years, is to allow. allow more, while letting go more. such a paradox, as is life. always conflicting against, and trying to navigate the space of pursuing, and being okay with not pursuing.

through every aspect of my inner-being: spiritually, creatively, maternally, artistically. a mirror through each showing me —

control → surrender

observe → embody

perform → allow

analyze → sense

prove → be

document → experience

the body speaks, the body speaks, the body speaks!

in my first entry in this essay, i wrote relentlessly in my journal when i decided to do a yoga flow before crawling into bed. my room truly is such a comfort, the ecosystem of it a living breathing energy that allows me to release.

suddenly i found myself on the floor moving in ways, i wasn’t sure how i got there, simply because i stopped thinking. i didn’t hold expectation, or weight. instead, i let my body move and move and move. and suddenly i was in such a state of flow, like a high, where the next thing i knew i sat in bed writing page, after page of sudden realizations.

it suddenly clicked for me, ‘aha!’, where have i been performing in my life without even realizing it? what if devotion was never meant to be witnessed? what if presence was enough, what if that was the practice? during this season of grief and radical change i find myself in – i started understanding how survival as a child shaped my desire for validation. and as i continue to work towards coming home to myself, and healing the hurt of my past, i realize that the little girl within that needed validation, still very much needed tending to.

growing up in a volatile household, i was either condemned or i was praised. surviving meant pleasing, pleasing until i lost who i was. or never even got the chance to discover. playing the part that meant i wouldn’t upset, disappoint, or ultimately face a punishment.

before i have learned to let my body speak, i was letting the mind, the observer, the survivor in me speak. let her show up. let her cling to words that meant approval. never quite knowing what “approval” meant for myself.

surveillance.

unknowingly, walking through my days. trying not to upset people, trying to not be too much of this or that, wanting others to see my effort, understand me, see me.

but i know, this knowing deep in my bones, that i have no one to prove myself.

and maybe that is what is scary.

that it’s all within, it’s me.

that i don’t actually know the answer to “what do you have to prove?”

here i am thirty years old, i’ve had a business since 2019 that i let dissolve, to pursue writing. to homeschool my children. there is no one, telling me what to do, what i should do, or where i need to be.

yet this little part deep inside me, was clinging onto validation.

what remains when self-surveillance stops?

the answer never comes until something disrupts your life.

life stripped me back so that i could find that answer. the past two weeks, months, have been incredibly hard for so many circumstances. through it all i’ve remained steadfast in allowing myself to deepen my love in my heart. to open my heart to love – loving myself through it all. i’m learning to not make my emotions my identity, to allow them to move through me. to see what’s on the other side of it all.

kali ma arrives in my life through destruction. “destruction, but not for destructions sake. destruction of what is false, draining, performative or no longer alive within”. “she brings an end to stagnation that has been depleting your life force.”

what if the depletion wasn’t from not showing up, but from finding myself in a position as both participant and audience to my own life…?

i no longer desire to be understood, or seen. truly. the need to make sense of and analyze every facet of my life, has depleted me in the past. but now… well now i am learning to inhabit my life.

this is something i am continuing to explore.. because this isn’t like something i’ve achieved. it’s a state of living, embodiment, i am experiencing. one that again, doesn’t need to be named necessarily. albeit i name it here, as a means to share my experience. but something to sit with. to get curious with. because a huge spiritual “revelation” is not fixating so much on healing, or getting to some new place. it’s learning to live with – what is already there, and let go of what it is that doesn’t serve who you are now. a continuous rebirth and death cycle.

maybe this is the season in where i learn how to belong to myself again.

a note

this space is not about fixing yourself. it’s about listening to what has always been there. honoring your own truths. if this space nourishes you and you feel called to support it, paid subscriptions help keep the altar tended.

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nichole is a writer and artist exploring healing, unraveling, creativity, and the quiet work of coming home to oneself.

i had the pleasure and honor of photographing these women at the home of their grandmother, where they grew up gathering with their families. during this session i simply wanted to capture a lineage of women and honor our mothers and the women before and after us.

“because of the women who came before me, i am. not in ways that the eye can see.

not the stories, the memory, the qualities i carry, these are the quiet inheritances.

strength that does not harden, but softness that survives despite.

within them, and within me the ways we endure, adapt, and continue.

i carry their hands in mine. hands that nourish, hold, clear, gather — hands that never leave.

their stories in my body. their becoming in my own. things passed down, without sound. things we still learn to hold, or things we choose not to carry.

lineage, is not pain alone. but continuation. feeling the hands of the ones before me, seeing the ones after me.”

written by me

a dedication to the lineage of women of whom i’ll never meet but feel within

my own lineage of women is a mystery, my mother my only knowing.

yet i know.. because of the women who came before me i am.

this isn’t just about resemblance. it’s about inner knowing. when you physically don’t have the privilege of having your mothers embrace nearby, your soul holds onto what the body craves.

how something moves through generations: sometimes as love, sometimes as survival, sometimes as something unnamed.

what did they carry, what could they not speak. what did they endure quietly, so that something softer could exist later on.

and i think about this moment when i was photographing the kingfisher women — standing there, aware enough to witness it. multiple generations of women, standing together.

to hold what feels true.

a privilege and an honor to not just witness, but notice the unrequited love, strength and endurance of women. how this love extends beyond family. into the way in which each one of them walks through the world.

for me i have been learning to release what no longer needs to continue. to choose, gently, what gets to live on. to understand the strength i hold is not mine alone, it was from the women before me.

this is how lineage shifts. not all at once but in awareness.

in small, honest moments of becoming. and this is how i heal my own pain, through holding space for women and the stories they carry without the need for words to hold them.

if this space nourishes you
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nichole is a writer and artist exploring healing, unraveling, creativity, and the quiet work of coming home to oneself.

this is not about becoming someone new. in fact all throughout this spring equinox i realized i was never supposed to become anything…

it is about releasing what you were never meant to hold—so you can return to who you’ve always been.

how to move through this

this is not something to rush. you can move through this in one sitting, or return to it over time. there is no right way to read this. just notice what stays with you.

what lingers.
what softens.
what resists.

this is not about doing it “right.” it is about allowing yourself to feel what is already there.

this is not: a template, a framework, a linear plan

part i — the opening (desire)

it didn’t begin with release.

it began with a question: what if my desire wasn’t wrong?

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if you’ve found your way here, welcome.

something in you is already remembering.

—

this space is a collection of writing, reflection, and quiet return.

not to become someone new but to come back to what has always been yours there are no right ways to move through this work.

only what resonates.
what lingers.
what softens.

what might even feel a little discomforting: welcome to the threshold space.

where to begin

if you don’t know where to start, begin here:

→ the woman who no longer carries anything
a reading + reflection experience

→ death of performance: learning how to belong to self

→ the quiet reorientation

→ ending the war with the woman who already exists

→ the uncertainty of being alive

this piece moves through desire, release, and return.
it’s meant to be read slowly or revisited over time.

what you’ll find here

reflections on identity, release, and coming home

explorations of desire, voice, and reclamation

gentle practices, journaling, and integration

personal writing and creative work

if you want to go deeper

you might also find something here:

• our desires are not unholy

• the reclamation of feminine desire without shame

• no longer trying to be chosen

a note

this space is not about fixing yourself. it’s about listening— to what has always been there. honoring your own truths.

—

if you’d like to stay awhile,
you are welcome here.

may what is meant to serve you
find you in its own time.

-nichole pricha

if this space nourishes you
and you feel called to support it,
paid subscriptions help keep the altar tended.

Subscribe now

nichole is a writer and artist exploring healing, unraveling, creativity, and the quiet work of coming home to oneself.

i simultaneously feel the breath of life, and the discomfort of spaciousness of where i sit. i still catch myself at times trying to figure it all out, and suddenly remind self that i just need to trust the unfolding more.

reminding myself that i am not late, or behind.

and where i am at is perfect.

i don’t need momentum or noise to keep going, just the subtle life force that moves in and around me.

channeled messages —

there is power that comes from meeting life exactly as it is not as you wish it to be. the unknown isn’t separate from your growth it is where your strength is formed.

in the middle of self-discovery you might find yourself in a space where it’s discomforting. the kind of discomfort when you learn to relax, when you start developing a relationship to self, and stop trying to become anything other than who you are. the person who no longer carries versions that don’t fit, and become a woman embodied in her truth.

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without everything i was carrying,
i started to see myself more clearly.

not as someone who didn’t belong,
but as someone who was never meant to.

i spent a lot of my life trying to belong to rooms that never really saw me.

not really the cool girl, but the one who hung out amongst the socialites in school. the one who leaned more towards rebel, sort of a outlier. i hung around the social circles, followed along until i didn’t. there was always part of me that diverted from the path.

somewhere in between i picked up names in high school.

“shrimp fried rice”. “slut”.

one summer of binge drinking, blacking out and finding myself in rooms with boys where hands were put where they weren’t warranted and suddenly i “put out easily”.

everything was misconstrued and i just couldn’t give a damn. at the time i couldn’t tell you what happened was wrong, even though if felt like it in every fiber of my being. i didn’t care at the time, because i received attention and wanted to embody the bad girl archetype. building up this persona was easier, and became a survival tool.

no i didn’t really care, until i did. not until i felt what it was like to be talked about. when people told my boyfriend at the time (my now husband), not to be with me because i was slutty.

not until i became the one to choose hanging out with my boyfriend, over friends, and became someone who suddenly didn’t care, who didn’t honor her friendships.

none of these things i write to attack, it was high school for godsake. i write them because they are truths i remember, ones i sit with and wonder how they’ve shaped me into today.

a quiet threat in the background:

“you’ve changed”.

suddenly i’d sit in rooms where you would hear someone talking about someone saying “they’ve changed” as if it was a bad thing. indicating the horror of said person being different, anything other than what they presented themselves at, one point in their lives.

so i look back at the events, and relationships that took place when i was a teenager. how young i was. because now someone will tell me they turned 17, and i feel no sense to relive those days.

so as i sit and recall the events that took place in high school, i realize how young i was. how little i understood about myself. how i allowed the voices of others to shape the person i was viewed as. now when i hear someone tell me they’re 17, and i feel no desire to return to that version of myself.

and i realize maybe we didn’t change… we just didn’t know we were allowed to find ourselves to be more than the rumors and gossip in a small town.

so i was never miss popular, or i really don’t think. i just hung out with them. i tried to fit in, and i tried to relate. but everywhere i found myself inside i felt like the black sheep. close enough to try, to compare, to feel like i wasn’t quite it. but of course i stayed.

i found solace and comfort in the endless sleepovers, friday night football games, cheer and dance practices because they were an escape from life at home.

off to college and again i felt myself the black sheep.

off to college, and i tired again. i rushed, and i thought i could become the version of myself that belonged, again. i thought i could be part of the cool crowd. instead i ended up in a sorority that lost its charter. we were seen as the outcasts, not quite the stereotypical sorority girl. and there it was again, that feeling.

the more i tried to belong, the more i could feel something in me resisting. walking to campus everyday, being surrounded by greek life, i hated it. and i felt wrong because i hated it. but ultimately i chose something else. suddenly i found myself making my own decisions, and choosing to leave traditional college for online university was one of the first choices towards taking my own path.

it was never that i couldn’t fit in

or find my people, it was that i was never meant to.

once upon a time i wanted to be chosen. to be seen, to be validated, and to be adored. ultimately i wanted to be understood. but something deeper has settled: understanding the gift of discernment.

the love i have in my life is not loud, or performative. it has been cultivated, its intentional, its small. it is real.

i no longer feel the need to have one singular best friend to prove that i am loved. i honor different relationship with different woman, each holding its own shape. and that feels more honest and sustainable.

there are no more obligatory relationships. no more guilt tied to how often i speak or show up. there is but a mutual quiet understanding now. when i think of someone, i reach out. when i need space, i take it. and both are allowed.

sometimes i still feel the ache of the village i once envied. but i understand now we weren’t raised in a world or culture that nurtures that kind of community anymore. we are taught independence, “i did it alone, so you can too”. “sufficiency”.

but something shifts, and i can feel it.

this is where i find myself now: no longer carrying the versions of myself that were shaped by misunderstanding. i am no longer holding onto the pain to prove it mattered. i can speak about what happened – the violations, the confusion, the ways i was viewed, without become it. because i was never alone in these experiences, i realize.

and neither were you.

and maybe you’ve felt it too. the moment you realized you were too much. or not quite enough. too quiet. too open. too, something. but what if none of it was wrong? what if you were never meant to fit into the rooms that required you to shrink?

i was never the black sheep.

i was just the one who could see.

if this space nourishes you and you feel called to support it, paid subscriptions help keep the altar tended.

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Nichole is a writer and artist exploring healing, unraveling, creativity, and the sacred work of coming home to oneself.

This space is for those lifting the veil.
For those reclaiming their voice.
For those learning to listen inward.

May what is meant to serve you find you in its own time.

-nichole

there are three places i visit.

the first is my childhood bedroom.

the second, my teenage years.

and the last is a threshold—one that leads me back to myself.

this time, something was different.

i didn’t feel the need to carry them with me anymore.

there are three places i visit. the first door i walk through is that of my childhood bedroom, the second my teenage bedroom, and the last is a threshold, that leads me to my highest self.

when i meet myself through the last doorway, i arrive at a riverbank. the trees are lush, much like the forest. there may or may no be a cottage or home behind us. but she is always there, and she knows i’ve arrived.

this morning, like many mornings before, i walked toward her and sat beside her near the shore of the water. the water is warm, the greenery seems alive almost, and as i approach her i sit beside her as i am now, laying my head upon her lap.

this is a hypnosis i’ve done many times. one i usually enter, when i feel called to do so.

but something was different this time.

the space between versions of me

as i moved between these familiar rooms, of my childhood and teenage years, i noticed something unfamiliar. i didn’t feel the same pull towards them, i normally have. not in a disconnected way. i didn’t feel the same responsibility to tend to them, to ask them what they needed, to ask them what i needed from them.

i didn’t ask them to carry forward with me.

suddenly, after sitting in stillness after this hypnosis and writing about this experience the question became: what happens when i stop carrying them? what happens if loving them, means not holding onto them?

suddenly i realized i was no longer responsible for carrying the same wounds of my past with me. they can walk with me, because they are not erased, nor forgotten.

the witnessing

in this hypnosis, you ask your inner child what they need and if they have a message for you. but when i entered those rooms this time, i didn’t feel the need to ask questions.

i didn’t try to fix, i didn’t try to gather anything. instead i simply sat with them. witnessing them, loving them.

and when i closed the doors, i felt different. it didn’t feel like i was leaving something behind, but allowing them to rest where they belonged.

i hadn’t known.

something i no longer have to carry.

the spiral — chinnamasta

a message stirring inside aligned with the archetype chinnamasta. the self-decapitated goddess, the one who cuts off her own head, holding it in her hands. which at first can feel intense, shocking even. but what she embodies is deeply precise: the reclaiming of life force that was once tied up in survival.

after i was in hypnosis, chinnamasta appeared to me through my oracle cards. her message, was clear. a revelation in remembering a truth, that i held inside, one i wasn’t ready to remember until that moment.

an understanding that in order to grow, the soul must sometimes separate from what it once relied upon. and so i realized: i had been clinging to my pain, not because i wanted to suffer, but because i believed (subconsciously) that holding onto it made it meaningful. that letting it go, like really letting it go mean that it didn’t matter. but that is not true.

the weight of our identity

alongside this came the message from the tao: ‘the treasure that weighs you down’. and i could feel it so clearly, the treasure was my identity.

the one who survived. the one who carries the memory of pain. the one who can prove what she has been through. and like a whisper i heard: “you don’t have to carry this proof anymore.”

she has survived it. i’ve already integrated it. “you’re already who you needed to become because of it”. it doesn’t make it meaningless, but you are allowed to live lightly now.

reframing the darkness

even my mother’s words echoed back to me: “you carry so much darkness in you.” something that once felt like an accusation… now felt like recognition. not of who i am, but what i have been carrying around me. but i already knew this, and i thought i had let it go, this impending darkness i’ve always carried. but in this moment i know that i was being called, to release it.

meeting myself

and once i returned to the riverbank, walking through that last door, something else became clear to me. my highest self was never ahead of me, she was never some far away version of self. she was never something i had to become or aim to be.

she is my relationship with self, a representation of that. and the distance i once felt between us, was created out of everything i was carrying.

so when i laid my head in her lap, i didn’t feel like i was visiting the future. i felt like i was behind held by myself, for the first time.

the nervous system learns

my body is learning something new for the first time. because as a child with a high sensitivity to the emotions of a parent with NPD, i went inward. i detached myself from everything, including myself. trust was never something i learned.

but now i know that i can be held, by me.

safety is not something to be earned, and rest is not something i need to prove myself worth of. this is not ego, this is not selfishness.

this is love!!

and when i sit beside her now, my highest self, she is quiet. she told me there is nothing left for me to do or be. nothing for me to prove, or earn.

the release into life

this season i’m in feels like reverence. like i am being held by the many women before me. i feel a sense of safety like i never have before, which has allowed me to live without the need to fix without the need to prove or earn, but to claim.

no forcing life to shape in ways i believe they must, no longer chasing desire as something i must earn. just… allowing.

it feels uncomfortable i will say, because i’ve never known his type of freedom in liberating self from shame and guilt and pain.

it is in this discomfort that i find myself learning to live in joy.

the more i release the weight of survival, i open myself up to energy, space, and life force. what once went into holding everything together, now allows me to move into creation.

writing, art, family, pleasure, joy.

these very things no longer have to fight to make space through me. they just simply.. move.

the invitation

there is a quiet shift that occurs when we stop clinging to the pain that made us. when we trust that is has already done it’s work. it is something that happens, on its own. it may take us a time and time again to remember this truth, and to embody this truth. this journey of returning home to ourselves isn’t linear. i will return back to this remembrance, many times. but the difference of knowing and integration is what is occurring.

when we finally release, (ask kali ma to take it for you) we can start to integrate this knowing into life. life force energy awakens us in a whole new way. it’s like entering the same room with a new sense of aliveness.

you don’t need to live with the proof of the pain.

what would it feel like to love what you’ve been through, to acknowledge it’s existence without needing to hold onto it? what doe that feel like in your body? discomfort is expansion. stillness is vital.

you don’t need to carry the proof of your pain.

what would it feel like to let it walk beside you instead of carrying it? or to simply, let it be a something that once was, without gripping so tight.

and maybe the deeper question is this: who are you without the weight of what you’ve been through?

not the version shaped by survival. not the one who learned how to be seen. not the one who carried everything just to prove it mattered. but the one who remains when all of that is set down.

i am still meeting her.

if this space nourishes you and you feel called to support it, paid subscriptions help keep the altar tended.

Subscribe now

Nichole is a writer and artist exploring healing, unraveling, creativity, and the sacred work of coming home to oneself.

This space is for those lifting the veil.
For those reclaiming their voice.
For those learning to listen inward.

May what is meant to serve you find you in its own time.

-nichole

this month felt like a portal, a threshold, one i couldn’t quite name but am learning is okay to not hame.

3/6/26

‘let go of who you think you should be. let go, and emerge. walk your path with conviction. the message: you are ready. what truth or desire emerges when i stop trying so hard? what would i move toward?

i am learning how to hold a life that moves in seasons, not identities.

you are expanding the language through which you witness life.

3/7/26

i see it all clearly now. my path. not so much the how or the details. but i feel it. just as you see something and suddenly remember or it looks familiar. that is this.

codes and links

below you’ll find codes from source and spirit. please take what you need, and leave the rest:

presence creates the conditions for creation

the threshold is already open, you’ve already walked through it — quietly.

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this is one of those meals that feels like comfort food but actually keeps you full. it’s creamy, cheesy, high in protein, and comes together with pretty simple ingredients. perfect for a weeknight dinner or meal prep when you want something reliable that still tastes really good.

disclaimer: i don’t usually measure a lot of my ingredients, my cooking is very intuitive in nature. so please play around with measurements + ingredients to your liking!

ingredients

• 1 lb protein pasta (i love this brand because it tastes like real pasta and my kids don’t complain about it)

• 3–4 cooked chicken breasts (cast iron or air fried, whatever you prefer)

• 1/2 cup cottage cheese

• 1/2 cup fage full-fat greek yogurt

• splash of milk and/or half and half (plus more as needed to thin the sauce)

• 1 block of good white cheddar cheese, shredded

• 2–3 heads broccoli, chopped into florets

• white pepper, garlic powder, salt (to taste)

• reserved pasta water

instructions

1. bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and cook your pasta until al dente. when there are about 5 minutes left, add in the broccoli so it cooks with the pasta. reserve some of the pasta water before draining.

2. cook your chicken however you prefer (cast iron or air fryer both work well), then slice or cube.

3. in a blender, combine the cottage cheese and greek yogurt. blend until smooth, adding a splash of milk as needed to help it come together.

4. add the blended mixture to a pan over medium heat. season with garlic powder, white pepper, and salt. add a small splash of milk or half and half to loosen it up if needed.

5. once the sauce is warmed through and slightly thickened, slowly add in the shredded cheddar, stirring continuously until melted and smooth. keep the heat low so it doesn’t get grainy. if you need to add some more half and half or milk, please do!

6. add in the cooked pasta and broccoli, along with a bit of reserved pasta water. stir everything together, letting the sauce coat the pasta and loosen to a creamy consistency.

7. fold in the chicken and let everything heat through.

8. serve warm, adding extra cheese or seasoning if you want.

download the card below for the recipe and let me know if you decide to try this!

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