Tag: spirituality

  • Labels and More Labels

    Twin flames. Soulmates. Lightworkers. Starseeds. DFs, DMs… The internet has turned into a spiritual alphabet soup. The deeper you dig, the more labels you find. It’s basically like googling a headache and suddenly discovering you’ve got a brain tumor.

    Humans have this relentless need to label everything. Introvert, extrovert, ambivert, and now ortrovert? Healers, psychics, mediums… At some point, it starts sounding less like self-discovery and more like an HR department from another galaxy.

    But here’s the kicker: some connections don’t need labels. They’re just it. I’m me, you’re you, we already have names. Do we really need to slap on a nametag too? At the end of the day, we’re all just particles colliding in the same human experiment.

    And then there’s the “one great love” theory. Some say you only get one. Some say two. Either way, it sounds suspiciously like the rules of a board game no one agreed to play. The truth? Great love isn’t always fireworks and epic ballads. Sometimes it’s subtle. A smile you didn’t expect. Healing you didn’t know you needed. Or finally knowing what you want in life after a five-year detour through chaos, heartbreak, and questionable decisions.

    So maybe the point isn’t the labels at all. We don’t call ourselves surfers after one wave, or hikers after one trail. Our hobbies don’t define us, so why should our labels? Especially when some people collect them like medieval kings collected titles “Duke of This, Lord of That, Keeper of the Gridlines, and Occasional Reiki Practitioner.”

    Maybe the real trick is to embody who we are, let it evolve, and not take any of it too seriously. To stop over-analyzing and start floating; like we’re drifting in a river, letting the current take us.

    Because at the end of the day, labels may try to tell us what we are. But only we get to decide who. And in the end, no label ever defined us better than this: human, just trying to figure it out. 

  • Congratulations, you raised your vibration. But how do you keep it?

    In the spiritual world, “raising your vibration” sounds like a permanent prize; like once you’ve done the yoga, the therapy, the shadow work, and maybe bought the overpriced sage, you get to live in eternal bliss. Birds wake you up. Candles glow just right. Everyone smells like bergamot.

    Except in reality? You wake up not to birdsong, but to a jackhammer outside your bedroom window. Your zen is blasted away by your neighbor’s LED floodlights, or the teenager upstairs practicing his nightly setlist of Italian R&B. Suddenly, your highly-tuned “spiritual gifts” (like being sensitive to smell) feel less like a blessing and more like a superpower no one asked for, especially on a sweaty, un-air-conditioned metro.

    And just when you think you’ve found a way to cope, every song, every TV show, every random conversation reminds you of that person. The one you do not want to remember. The universe seems to have gotten the memo wrong, and instead of delivering signs from your soulmate, it’s recycling reminders from someone you’d rather delete from your memory. 8 months in a row now. Seriously? I thought I did all my processing, healing and purging universe, what more do you want from me?

    They say you can’t control situations, only your reactions. Which sounds easy in theory, until your “reaction” involves getting annoyed out of your zen mode into your noise-canceling earplugs at 2 a.m.

    So what do you do? You adapt. You buy the eye mask. You turn up the music. You learn that keeping your vibration high doesn’t mean floating above it all like some celestial goddess – which by the way, I did at some point. Floaty had become my middle name, until even that reached its expiration date as I found out one cannot chill at the spiritual lounge forever. It doesn’t mean grounding yourself right in the mess of it either. It means balancing it all out and meeting in the middle; the heart. 

    And how do you live from your heart, when you just cannot – for the love of all that’s good – like the city you live in? Do you buy more house plants and surround yourself with the things you love? 

    Because even if you ran away to your favorite city, where you’d see almost everything you love daily, eventually the honeymoon phase would end, and you’d still find something to complain about: the rent, the taxes, the neighbors, the bills, the weather…

    And maybe that’s the point. Raising your vibration isn’t about avoiding the noise, the smells, the ghost of a person who is still haunting you, or the construction workers with no mercy at 7 a.m. It’s about holding your frequency in spite of them.

    And as I lay in bed, wrapped in earplugs, eye mask, with my calcite under my pillow and possibly mild resentment, I couldn’t help but wonder…

    Isn’t maintaining our vibration less about chasing peace, and more about choosing it, even when life gets loud?

  • The Frequency of Love

    Last year, a song got blissfully stuck in my head. I hummed the melody, enjoyed it, and didn’t think twice about the words.

    Fast forward a year, I play it again. And suddenly, the lyrics hit me in a way I didn’t even know I was ready for. The words I skimmed over before, the ones that once felt like background noise, turned out to be a blueprint for my journey.

    “The frequency of love. Feels like rivers to the seas, I’m trying not to drown, feel those currents over me, keep both feet on the ground, feels like electricity, this is the frequency of love. Can you feel it, you gotta feel it, you feel it all around, it’s in your heart, in your soul.”

    Love isn’t just a feeling. It’s a frequency. A pulse that runs through everything; in the way rivers meet the seas, in the charge that tingles through your body, in the quiet grounding of two feet on the earth, how the sun feels on your skin, floating on water…

    In a world where chaos seems constant, where comparison is the default mode and perfection is demanded in one form or another, love becomes the rarest skill. Not just romantic love, but love for yourself, for the messy humanity, for the mirrors you meet along the way.

    I’ve seen it in my past relationships with imperfect people. They were all imperfect, yet perfectly imperfect. Some mirrored pieces of me. Some mirrored all of me. In family, friends, work, I’ve met reflections of myself, and in showing them compassion, I learned to show it to myself.

    The frequency of love is unity. So above, so below. It’s patience, forgiveness, joy, stillness, electricity, surrender, and fire… all at once. It’s the pulse that reminds you that even when life feels heavy, even when the world feels cruel, your heart can still beat in alignment with everything beautiful.

    And maybe, just maybe, that frequency isn’t something you find. It’s something you carry, something you radiate, something you become with a little help along the way.