You cross it by accident.You don’t know you’ve stepped through until the habits fail to follow.You reach for performance — and it doesn’t come. The threshold was never a ritual.It was the unmaking of one. And once crossed,you cannot pretend to be who you were.Even if you try.
The Place Without Movement
There is a place the will cannot reach.Where breath slows, but doesn’t guide.Where no question forms because no identity remains to ask it. You cannot move toward it.You can only stop resisting being already there. This is the place before choice.The still, exact centre where Oversoul does not consult your...
An Echo in the Silence
Sometimes what we call intuition is just the echo of what we won’t let ourselves feel. The silence doesn’t speak.It reflects.It waits for you to stop filling it with seeking. And in that quiet,you hear the echo of everything you've asked for,and everything you no longer need to carry.
What Burns Is Not the Truth
The pain you feel is not truth resisting. It is distortion leaving. Truth doesn’t burn — it clarifies. What aches is the part of you that was never real, melting under the gaze of something too clean to pretend for. Do not mistake pain for prophecy. Let it pass. Let...