How the Body Spells the Soul
On awakening, pattern, and still needing to eat apples
There’s something strange about touching the edge of the sacred
and then remembering you still have to do your laundry.
You still owe rent.
You’re still out of peanut butter.
The cat is meowing at the door.
The lightbulb above the stove just died.
And yet…
You’ve seen something.
You’ve felt it.
Through the palms of your hands,
the center of your brain,
or that wild space some call God-consciousness,
you’ve reached across the veil.
The Corporeal as Sacred
I’ve spent years reading hands.
Not to predict—but to listen.
Because the hand, in its lines and loops and forgotten maps,
whispers what the soul is trying to say.
And what I’ve found is this:
We are not random.
We are not “blank slates.”
We are designed.
And that design is not a prison.
It’s a pattern—a sacred one.
It’s not always easy to follow.
Sometimes, it shows up in the middle of grief.
Sometimes, in the middle of washing dishes.
But once you glimpse the pattern…
you can’t unsee it.
The Hero’s Journey Has a Laundry Pile
Awakening doesn’t remove you from the world.
It drops you deeper into it.
With your eyes half open.
Heart a little cracked.
A subtle knowing you can’t explain at parties.
Most seekers I meet carry both:
- A hunger for meaning
- And a reluctance to step into it
That’s not failure. That’s myth.
That’s how every Hero’s Journey begins.
With fog.
With discomfort.
With a whispered “Surely this can’t be all there is…”
The Humbling
Sometimes I feel like I’ve been invited to the Great Gatsby’s mansion of the cosmos—
a swirling, divine celebration of everything—and I show up:
Blindfolded.
Half-deaf.
Mouth too full of awe to speak.
But I’m still welcome.
I can still sit on the stairs.
I can still feel the music vibrate in my ribs.
That’s what this sacred pattern is like.
It doesn’t demand perfection.
It invites presence.
It doesn’t require you to escape your body.
It asks you to inhabit it fully.
A Pattern You Can Live Inside
The hands are the entrance.
The archetypes are the language.
And the life you’re living?
That’s the classroom.
The temple.
The proving ground.
So if you’ve been seeking something that feels like real awakening—
the kind with dirt under the fingernails and stars in the eyes—
this is your invitation.
To begin again.
Not with grand pronouncements or enlightenment posters.
But with small steps that honor your design.
The sacred isn’t far away.
It’s in your breath.
Your palms.
Your patterns.
And maybe even your next apple.