1.Exactly like the picture: blues and glitter, but also touched with pink-red and purple hues, accompanied with rosy hazes slipping into other lifetimes and dimensions, into unseen depths, as if the colors themselves remember something ancient and whisper it back through light, merging in ways that feels both familiar and otherworldly. They ripple like half-formed memories rising through a mist that never quite settles. Colors shimmer at the furthest edge of knowing, as if they arrive before thought, before language, before life itself. Each shade drifts toward you with a strange familiarity, like something that has already dreamed you long before you could dream it back.
In their quiet glow, fragments return, places without names, feelings without origin, fire burning in your bones. There is a pulling, subtle and ancient, a whisper of forgotten magic folding itself back into you.
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2.Flowing through the vast gulf where the universe hums, you drift among pink, purple, and warm brownish hues. They ripple like cosmic tides, calling you back home. A softness, a tender pull into your own hidden realms. As you move through these currents, the colours begin to braid themselves, guiding you toward memories your soul has carried for lifetimes. The hums turn into whispers, the whispers into echoes, and the echoes into an ancient knowing that has always lived beneath your skin. You've always known. And as so, something unveils, something remembers, something returns, and in that moment, the universe breathes with you.
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3.You're a soft spectrum made of pastels, like cupcakes dusted with sprinkles, your energy doesn’t choose a single hue, it swirls like whipped light, shifting through pinks and lilacs and buttercream blues, sprinkled with a gentle sweetness, weaven into a pattern of loud whispers, tightly knitted together. Interwoven, you exist in the in-between, the quiet thread that slips through time and vast space while remaining your own. Soft hums from before surround you at all time. You're ancient, an ancient pulse still beating in the depths of your aura. You carry age the way mist carries light, softly, silently, without effort.
The hums of before drift like distant lullabies, trailing through your field. Your aura is a floating softness, a gentle reminder that you have been here many times, and that pieces of those forgotten worlds still reside in you.
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I was a believer around half of my life. I never cared much for religion, but when I entered recovery, I became a spiritual person. In 12 step groups, the standard is that you can create your own higher power and believe in anything you want.
Obviously, everyone has the right to believe in what they want. People are often proud to not believe in religion, but believe in a wide variety of magical ideas from energies to reiki, to karma, or universal agency.
My point is that spirituality also ignores the question of 'what is real?' The core principle is still belief without evidence. Instead of signing to any of prepackaged ideas, we are not making up how we believe the universe works. This is not much better.
I firmly believe that if you cannot show evidence for an idea, ANY idea, then it has no merit sets a problematic view that is carried into all areas of life. We live in a time where more than ever, we need to become serious about reason and science.
