What do we say on Mother’s Day
to the ones who have mothered in ways the world doesn’t always see?

But in a world so devoted to disconnection—disconnection from nature, from each other, from our own truth—it can feel radical to listen. To feel. To allow…

…The voice of your feelings—whether a whisper or a scream—is not a detour from your path. It is the path.

What happens when you feel deeply in a world that rewards emotional flatness? You are pathologized. Stigmatized. Labeled as unstable, dramatic, irrational—or worse, ill. When the soul stirs with grief or longing, when the heart breaks open in protest of injustice or personal loss, it is too often seen as a problem to be fixed rather than a sacred initiation into truth.

We live in a culture that has trained us to mistrust our feelings. From the earliest age, we are taught to prize logic over emotion, control over vulnerability, and rationality over the very instincts that rise from the depths of our being.

If you’ve felt the pull of these fizzy drinks—the quick comfort, the craving, the crash—you’re not alone. Their design is meant to override our natural rhythms. But the body remembers its balance.

We often reach for a soft drink without thinking twice—whether it's to push through a long day, reward ourselves with a little sweetness, or simply out of habit. But beneath the fizzy surface lies a darker truth …

True community begins where we no longer ask others to edit their lives for our comfort.

But the passionate heart cannot be forced open. It is not a machine. It is a flower—living, breathing, mysterious. And the Divine Creatrix, She who governs the soul’s blooming, asks only this of us ………

The dance we must re-enter is one of relationship—with our bodies, with one another, with the Earth.

The voice of the heart—Kardeeah—is not made of words. It is made of knowing, of light, of ecstatic wisdom that pulses through every cell…..

Breathe…

When we are pulled away —
into endless scrolling,
artificial light,
the sterile hum of man-made rhythm —
we begin to ache.
Not just in body,
but in the heart of who we are.

This ache is holy.

…But these feelings that arose in the aftermath—grief, anger, heartbreak—don’t just come from being forcebly held in a psychiatric institution. They are born any time we are oppressed and made less than. A toxic workplace, an abusive relationship, a family system that doesn’t allow you to speak your truth—any place that takes your power and silences your soul can leave a scar.

Returning to the Self with Reverence and Grace

Anytime worry, angst and anxiety intrude, or in the stillness that follows the rising of emotions and the softening of edges from the self-love ritual—there is space for gratitude.
Not the forced kind. Not the “be grateful it wasn’t worse” kind.
But true, embodied, sacred gratitude—for your breath, your body, your heart, and your becoming.

There are moments on the healing path when our hearts ache not just from what happened to us—but from the deep forgetting of who we truly are. After trauma, betrayal, abandonment, or violation, we can lose our connection to self-love, our true self and our purpose.

In the whirlwind of modern life, where the mind races and the heart pounds against the weight of unseen burdens, anxiety has become a shadow that follows too many. In search of relief, many turn to pharmaceuticals, but nestled in the very fabric of nature lies an ancient remedy—magnesium. A mineral not merely of the earth, but of the body’s own wisdom, magnesium serves as a guardian of peace, a silent sentinel calming the storm within.

Let me begin with a story, one that might make you smile—a tale of our golden retriever, a flame-colored bundle of love.

The gut, often called the “second brain,” is a key player in our mental and physical health. This connection is rooted in the gut-brain axis, a communication network between the gut and central nervous system. Strengthening the gut through dietary changes—such as adopting a gluten-free lifestyle—can have profound effects on mood, cognition, and overall well-being.