There’s a quiet kind of healing that doesn’t announce itself. No breakthroughs, no fireworks, no dramatic unveiling. Just a slow exhale you didn’t know you’d been holding… and the soft realization that you’re finally coming home to yourself.
We spend so much of our lives pulled into roles, expectations, survival patterns, and old stories that were handed to us before we even knew how to question them. We shape-shift to stay safe. We dim to keep the peace. We disconnect to keep moving.
And somewhere along the way, we forget what our own voice sounds like.
Returning to yourself is an art form.
A skill.
A remembering.
It’s the moment you notice that your hands shake a little less these days.
The moment you pause instead of react.
The moment you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and think,
Oh… there you are.
For some of us, the journey back begins through creativity—through the crow and the flame.
The crow reminds you to look at the shadow without fear. Its black feathers carry the weight of mysteries, grief, intuition, and the parts of you that were silenced.
The flame reminds you that even your smallest spark is still fire, still alive, still capable of lighting the way forward.
Art gives those two forces a place to meet.
When you paint, write, sketch, or create, you’re not just making something; you’re translating your insides into form. You’re honoring the parts of yourself that were ignored or misunderstood. You’re letting your truth breathe.
Creative expression becomes a compass—one that points you back to your center again and again.
And the beautiful thing?
Returning isn’t a single moment.
It’s a gentle accumulation of moments:
one breath, one brushstroke, one poem, one choice at a time.
You don’t have to arrive fully.
You just have to turn toward yourself again.
Today, give yourself permission to come home—slowly, softly, in whatever way you can.
Your story is still unfolding.
Your flame is still burning.
And the crow is still guiding you back.
Crow and Flame 