Virgin Monk Boy bows low beneath the sunflower sky of your words. This isn’t just a guide—it’s a sunbeam with a backbone.
You name something the church fathers forgot and capitalism can't monetize: joy as a lineage, passed from mother to daughter like fire from a torch, not trauma from a wound. Your daughter is the child in the tarot, yes, but so are you. And your mother too, dancing somewhere behind the veil, finally radiant now that she sees you healed what she couldn’t.
This isn’t “live, laugh, love” in cursive font. This is ancestral healing via sunflower.
And you’re right—living in the light doesn’t mean pretending not to have shadows. It means inviting them to dance and letting the bonfire be big enough for both of you.
Bless your barefoot walk through the meadow. May your boundaries remain firm, your crystals stay charged, and your radiance never require apology.
Beautiful words, Aleksander... "Your daughter is the child in the tarot, yes, but so are you. And your mother too, dancing somewhere behind the veil, finally radiant now that she sees you healed what she couldn’t." I will carry this vision as I let the sun shine over me today. Thank you.
There is something golden and quietly brave in your words, a slow unfolding, like sun-warmed petals turning toward the sky.
“The Sun is me.” That line stays with me, not as ego, but as essence. The mother who becomes warmth, the light who makes play and joy possible for another. You embody that.
Though I walk a different path, without children of my own, I recognised something deep in the way you spoke of your mother, her struggles, her authenticity, the way you inherited that inner glow. The healing between generations… it touched me.
Your words about radiance, rest, and sacred boundaries feel like a blessing for those of us who have been burned by trying too hard to shine for others. Thank you for reminding me that light doesn’t have to shout, it can flicker, retreat, and warm the soul quietly.
And I confess — I know little about crystals, but I’ve always loved stones. I’ve climbed them, walked beside them, and even sat inside mountains. Your list made me want to learn more, not for magic, but for memory and grounded presence.
Thank you for this shimmering guide, I’ll carry it like a soft stone in my pocket this summer.
Hi Liliane, thank you for reading. That’s exactly right. Living in the light means we get to share as much of ourselves that we feel safe to do so. Some environments help bring that out in us more than others. You too are the Sun my dear. You shine brightly for yourself as you do for others. I can see this clearly in how you write and express yourself. ✨🌻
Your words felt like a sunbeam through the trees, soft and golden, quietly affirming. 🌿
Thank you, truly, for reflecting something I’ve only just begun to believe about myself.
You’re right, feeling safe is the first miracle. And your space, your writing, your light… they invite truth to step out from its hiding place. I’m so grateful to have found your voice.
May we both keep shining gently, for ourselves, and for those still learning how.
Naomi,
Virgin Monk Boy bows low beneath the sunflower sky of your words. This isn’t just a guide—it’s a sunbeam with a backbone.
You name something the church fathers forgot and capitalism can't monetize: joy as a lineage, passed from mother to daughter like fire from a torch, not trauma from a wound. Your daughter is the child in the tarot, yes, but so are you. And your mother too, dancing somewhere behind the veil, finally radiant now that she sees you healed what she couldn’t.
This isn’t “live, laugh, love” in cursive font. This is ancestral healing via sunflower.
And you’re right—living in the light doesn’t mean pretending not to have shadows. It means inviting them to dance and letting the bonfire be big enough for both of you.
Bless your barefoot walk through the meadow. May your boundaries remain firm, your crystals stay charged, and your radiance never require apology.
Shine on,
Beautiful words, Aleksander... "Your daughter is the child in the tarot, yes, but so are you. And your mother too, dancing somewhere behind the veil, finally radiant now that she sees you healed what she couldn’t." I will carry this vision as I let the sun shine over me today. Thank you.
Just LOVE this post! 💛🌻
Thank you, Izabella. I’m so glad it resonates. 🌼🌻🪶
There is something golden and quietly brave in your words, a slow unfolding, like sun-warmed petals turning toward the sky.
“The Sun is me.” That line stays with me, not as ego, but as essence. The mother who becomes warmth, the light who makes play and joy possible for another. You embody that.
Though I walk a different path, without children of my own, I recognised something deep in the way you spoke of your mother, her struggles, her authenticity, the way you inherited that inner glow. The healing between generations… it touched me.
Your words about radiance, rest, and sacred boundaries feel like a blessing for those of us who have been burned by trying too hard to shine for others. Thank you for reminding me that light doesn’t have to shout, it can flicker, retreat, and warm the soul quietly.
And I confess — I know little about crystals, but I’ve always loved stones. I’ve climbed them, walked beside them, and even sat inside mountains. Your list made me want to learn more, not for magic, but for memory and grounded presence.
Thank you for this shimmering guide, I’ll carry it like a soft stone in my pocket this summer.
Hi Liliane, thank you for reading. That’s exactly right. Living in the light means we get to share as much of ourselves that we feel safe to do so. Some environments help bring that out in us more than others. You too are the Sun my dear. You shine brightly for yourself as you do for others. I can see this clearly in how you write and express yourself. ✨🌻
Dear Naomi,
Your words felt like a sunbeam through the trees, soft and golden, quietly affirming. 🌿
Thank you, truly, for reflecting something I’ve only just begun to believe about myself.
You’re right, feeling safe is the first miracle. And your space, your writing, your light… they invite truth to step out from its hiding place. I’m so grateful to have found your voice.
May we both keep shining gently, for ourselves, and for those still learning how.
With warmth and admiration,
Liliane ✨🕊
🙌🏼✨🌞💛
☀️💫