The Purity Within

In the Temple of Sekhmet, the message came clearly: “You carry a broken heart.”

During breathwork, I journeyed through death and rebirth.

Guided by Anubis through the gates of Osiris, I witnessed the weighing of my heart, traveled between worlds, and merged with an ancestral African guide as Mother Africa tended to old soul wounds and rekindled the fire within.

What followed was surrender.

A supernova erupted in my heart. The old self burned away. I became the abandoned child, alone on the plains… until the elephants came.

They did not rescue me. They initiated me.

I was carried by the herd, brought to the waters, drowned, purified, reborn as seed, wisdom, and finally shown a crystalline pyramid with one message:

“You are home.”

Sometimes healing is not being saved.

Sometimes healing is remembering who carries you home.

✨ Have you ever experienced a moment where everything ended… only to discover it was actually a beginning?

I came to Egypt knowing I was searching for something… I didn’t expect to find it at Dendera.

At the Temple of Hathor in Dendera, peace met me in a place where there had once been loss. A traumatic death had occurred there long ago, yet I wasn’t met by fear, grief, or activation. Only stillness.

As I climbed the ancient stairs toward the rooftop, memories surfaced. A flash of another life. A knowing beyond words.

Before arriving in Egypt, I carried this certainty that I would reclaim a missing part of myself. On that rooftop, it happened. A soul retrieval. A homecoming.

And with it came a quiet reassurance: everything would be okay.

The kind of knowing that settles into the body. The kind that reminds you death and rebirth often walk together.

Less searching. More remembering.Less fragmentation. More wholeness.

✨ Have you ever visited a place that felt like a remembering rather than a destination? Share below — your story may resonate with someone else.

I entered the Great Pyramid… and left as someone else.

Deep in the subterranean chamber beneath the Great Pyramid, something powerful happened.
Anubis greeted me at the gates. Our eyes met and in that moment there was no fear, only recognition… a silent understanding.

I journeyed through spaces that felt strangely familiar.
A place where meaning, purpose, and presence no longer lived separately… but merged into one.

What followed felt like a death and rebirth.
Not an ending. A remembering.

Egypt has not felt like visiting. It has felt like coming home.

✨ For those who have had a moment in a sacred place, ceremony, pilgrimage, medicine journey, temple, or landscape where something inside shifted…

Where was it? What happened?
Share your experience below. Your story may be the one someone else needed to remember their own.

Save this for the moments you forget who you are. 🤍

There’s something about Great Sphinx of Giza that doesn’t feel ancient… it feels familiar. Like a remembering. Like returning home to a place your soul somehow already knows.

Between the paws of the Sphinx, surrounded by beautiful humans, laughter, presence, and prayer — I felt what so many of us are truly searching for:tribe, belonging, joy, and the quiet magic of being fully alive.

Mother Egypt has a way of stripping away the noise and reminding you who you are beneath it all.Grateful beyond words for this homecoming. 🇪🇬✨

Have you ever travelled somewhere that felt less like visiting… and more like remembering?Tell me where in the world you felt that. ↓

Somewhere in the White Desert of Egypt,
I left a part of my dad behind today. 🤍

Not letting go of him…
just letting him become part of the wind, the stillness, and the beauty of an ancient landscape.

There was something deeply peaceful about it all.
Quiet.
Open.
Timeless.

May the winds of the Sahara carry you to wonderful places, Dad.
The adventure continues.

Never thought I’d be travelling to 🇪🇬 with my dad this way.

We had once talked about potentially taking this trip together…
life simply had other plans.

As someone who works in death care, I often speak about how relationships don’t end when someone dies. Sometimes love just changes form. The connection remains.

This journey feels meaningful.
Tender.
A little surreal at times.

Part tribute.
Part pilgrimage.
Part keeping a promise we never got the chance to fulfill together.

Grief is strange that way.
Sometimes it asks us to keep carrying the people we love into new places, new experiences, and new versions of ourselves. 🤍

We don’t need more answers at the end of life… we need more presence.

Honoured to be a speaker at the MSIFN Palliative Care Symposium this week.

I shared about the role of a death doula—
and explored care not as intervention…
but as presence.

The difference between fixing
and simply staying.

How, at the end of life,
people don’t need us to have the right words—
they need to feel they are not alone.

I leave reminded that death has always belonged to community.

Grateful for the openness, the listening, and the shared humanity.

If this resonates, take a moment today to simply be with someone—no fixing, just presence.