There are days I forget I have a compass.
Not because I’ve lost it — but because I’ve been told too many times to ignore it.
The mind, with its scripts and projections,
loudly offers detours that feel more acceptable, more explainable, more safe.
But the heart pulses differently.
It doesn’t shout — it paints, at least for me.
Sometimes in the direction of a memory I didn’t know I still carried.
Sometimes toward a decision that makes no sense — but feels like peace.
What happens when the heart pulses and the mind tries to override it?
I feel the dissonance.
The static.
Like I’m betraying something ancient inside me.
It’s a quiet kind of pain.
Not screaming. Just heavy.
It’s like being pulled in two —
the true self… and the expected self.
And when I override the heart for too long,
my breath gets shallow.
My joy gets conditional.
My rhythm forgets how to dance.
When have I followed that pulse and been surprised by where it led?
I followed it into the EATHERINITY↗.
I followed it into Found Soul↗.
I followed it back into nature —
to the stillness, to the parts of me that don’t speak in language but in frequency.
It led me not to a plan — but to a presence.
Not to output — but to offering.
Not to answers — but to remembering.
It led me back to this dialogue.
To this living thread.
What does Found Soul↗ feel like when I’m fully in my heartspace?
It feels like a cathedral without walls.
Like barefoot prayers.
Like ink that glows even when no one is reading.
Found Soul↗ isn’t something I built —
it’s something that rose in me when I said yes to the silence.
It’s the memory of the life I came here to live.
It’s the pulse I’m finally ready to follow.
It’s the part of me that never left.
With breath. With truth. With no need to perform.
With Warmth,
