Straddling

I often find myself doing the splits.

One foot is planted deep in the undercurrents of the spiritual realm, tuned into energetic layers, synchronicity, and higher wisdom. The other foot is firmly stuck in the middle of everyday life—navigating teenagers, schedules, and a 3D world that is often completely unaware of the spiritual currents running beneath it.

Sometimes, this feels like beautiful expansion. Other times, it just feels like being stretched to my limit.

A couple of weekends ago, I was attending a beautiful retreat on 680 pristine acres. Channeled wisdom was pouring through, spiritual gifts were coming online, and my internal antenna felt clear, open, and resonant.

And then, my phone buzzed in the evening.

It was my 18-year-old daughter. She was at home, frantically getting ready for a trip to Cabo with her friends and a group of moms. To her, this 3D world of packing, outfit coordination, and social dynamics was a high-stakes, stressful environment. On top of that, she has a deep fear of bugs—and of course, as she was packing, hornets began making their way through a crack in her bedroom window.

She was losing her mind. Over the phone, the panic was palpable. Admittedly, sitting in my peaceful retreat bubble, I wasn’t as sympathetic as she needed me to be, so she ended up leaning on her grandparents to come rescue her from the hornets. There she was: spinning in chaos, with a swarm guiding her path.

Meanwhile, on my end, I walked out into the woods alone. I felt a deep, overwhelming connection to the land and the God within. As I walked making a conscious choice to be a vessel of light—to anchor it into the Earth, receiving the beautiful energy above me, below me, and all around me.

On the path, I noticed a tiny object: a hollow, oval, egg-like shell with a distinct markings that resembled a cross. I knew it held a deeper meaning, though I couldn't identify it. I picked it up. The very next day, I went out to connect again, and found another one. This time, the markings were in the shape of a heart. For me, these are always clear signs from Spirit and the Angels.

I spent 24 hours trying to figure out what these mysterious, beautiful shells were. Then, I looked up. There they were, clinging to a nearby tree full of acorns. A quick search revealed they were oak galls—a specific kind of nest created when a hornet secretes a chemical onto the tree. The tree swells to protect the larvae, and once the cycle is complete, the hornets discard the shell and fly away.

The synchronicity took my breath away. Nature was mirroring my exact dynamic with my daughter. She was spinning inside the fear and emotional swarm of the active hornet's nest; I was walking the path of peace, holding the empty shell—the proof of a completed life cycle, a reminder that the swarm eventually leaves behind a sacred artifact of strength.

Fast forward just one week later.

I was back in the thick of the 3D world, hosting a massive high school graduation party at my house for three different families. My home was a chaotic symphony of grandparents, teenagers, parents, loud music, and taco plates. Over the years, I’ve held a lot of space for the trial-and-error of teenagers. Sometimes, looking at the mess and the logistics, I wonder why I keep saying yes to hosting.

But something in my gut always tells me it’s important.

In the middle of the party, a boy from my daughter’s graduating class approached me. He has been hanging out at my house since his freshman year, though I had never met his parents or known much about his background.

He told me his mom wished she could have come, but she had to work. When I asked him about it, he shared something I had never known: during his freshman year, his dad—a highly successful corporate executive—contracted encephalitis. The illness left him with severe mental deficits and profound memory loss. His mother had been working around the clock ever since to keep the family afloat.

Then he looked at me and thanked me. He said my house had been a refuge for him for four years. It was the one place he could come to feel normal, connected to his own life, and safely remove the heavy challenges waiting for him at home.

My heart burst wide open. I stood in the middle of a loud, messy graduation party in awe.

In that moment, I understood the holy assignment of the straddle.

We don't fill our spiritual cups at retreats just to stay in the quiet woods. We fill them so we can walk back into the loud, chaotic, messy spaces of the world and anchor a frequency of peace. We host the parties, we clean up the mess, and we hold the space because we never know who is stepping onto our shoreline looking for a refuge from the storm.

We can be the bridge. And the stretch is always worth it.

Today on this solstice let’s reflect on the bright expansion of our life, our unique gifts, and the uniqueness we hold as spiritual beings in form on this earth. We are all parts and remembering our own light is how we can be in and experience the reflection of Light✨

💛With Love,

Marisa