For a long time, I’ve gone through life a bit like The Fool from the tarot. Not the insult kind—the archetype. Satchel over my shoulder, head in the clouds, stepping into the unknown with a cat at my heels and no clue what’s next.
And honestly? That’s served me. I’ve wandered into some beautiful places, met brilliant weirdos, made things that mattered (and some that didn’t). It’s been messy. Magical. Full of side quests.
But lately, I’ve been craving something else. Not control—because, let’s be real, that’s an illusion—but intention.
I want to live with more deliberateness. To walk my path with my eyes open. To choose direction instead of only responding to the wind. And still leave space for detours, for joy, for surprise. Because I’m still neurospicy, still wired for wonder and divergence. I just want to feel like I’m moving toward something instead of always tumbling through.
This is the season I’m in: shifting from drifting to deciding, without losing the magic.
Anyone else feeling that?
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