Ritual, Lightly Held

My mornings are slow by choice.

Coffee brewed patiently. Silence that isn’t filled just to avoid it. Sometimes a tarot card pulled—not for answers, but for reflection.

I don’t ask what will happen. I ask what wants to be noticed.

Ritual doesn’t need to be heavy to be meaningful. I hold it lightly. It’s there to create rhythm, not rules. A way to arrive in the day with intention instead of momentum.

The smallest rituals tend to be the most grounding. They remind me that clarity comes from making space, not from forcing conclusions.