Forged in silence

I’ve been lucid— beyond the edges of my own humanity.
I move like water. Always seeking the path. Never thinking too much. It makes sense to me. I
barely know how I ended up here— in this place where they say I see between worlds.
This beginning of the year feels like a birth. Not a death. Not for me. Not for the women I walk
alongside.
There is infinite care. We made it. All of us. We are reborn— before what was lost in someone
else’s body. And the “other” out there? There are many.
There’s quiet joy in realizing we don’t need to bury the past. Just pause long enough to see
we’re becoming what we once ignored. Something that now speaks through us.
No more absurdities. No more strangeness. Only resonance. Nothing is complicated. It’s a
simple, precise phenomenon. Eventually, it becomes natural— to change without knowing
where the edges are.
My days now move to the rhythm of breath around me. Often, in safe spaces, wrapped in
copper sound, we cry— for what couldn’t be avoided, for what will never return.
When we lose touch with our own waters, everything inside begins to scream. And then— a
smile rises. The body refines. The senses sharpen. And always— there are trials. And
waiting.
Sometimes I feel that pang in the gut— a deep irritation. So many stories feel unjust.
And so, in my wildest form, I walk through the healing room, revisit the angry thoughts, and
return to the bowls.
Everything pulses. And the sound knows— better than I do— how to unravel each knot. In
every story. In every woman.

We are all miëdkas. Those who live between worlds. Those who survive the encounter with
the bear.
As Nastassja Martin writes in In the Eye of the Wild: “You must forgive the bear. He didn’t
mean to kill you. He meant to mark you. Now you are half-human, half-bear.”
I smile after the trance the Tibetan bowls offer— for them, and for me. Copper frequency is as
precise as an acupuncture needle.
2024 comes as a new birth.
For every wound, there is a healing.
And I—like a miëdka— if I could bring a message from the worlds they say I see, I would say:
Destiny is forged by the knife of secrecy.
There is destiny.
But there is also will.