Tag: Embody Light

  • Illuminate.

    Illuminate.

    📷: @d.lyutoff / Pexels
    ⚒️: @distressedfxapp @VSCO @lightroom

    Illuminate.

    Be the light anyway.

    Not the sanitized, monetized version. Not the hollow “good vibes” lie designed to keep everyone comfortable and nothing honest.

    I mean the kind of light that exists because the world has become grungy, nasty, ridiculous, and addicted to consuming whatever still has a pulse.

    Truth should be efficient. In a sane world, it is. But this isn’t a sane world.

    Here, efficiency belongs to distortion. To slogans instead of substance. To repetition instead of verification. To emotional leverage instead of reality.

    Truth requires something costly: attention, humility, memory, accountability. It forces people to stop, reassess, sometimes admit they were wrong, sometimes change. And that makes it inefficient in a culture built to move fast, feel loudly, and never look inward.

    So truth is treated as an obstacle. As “problematic.” As dangerous. As something to be managed, softened, buried, or rebranded until it no longer threatens the illusion.

    Hold the light anyway.

    Even when it makes you a silhouette instead of a spectacle. Even when it costs you comfort, applause, or belonging. Especially when it exposes what others are desperate to keep hidden.

    Light doesn’t scream. It doesn’t beg. It doesn’t perform.

    It reveals.

    And that, more than anything, is why it’s feared.

    So keep carrying it through the cracks and decay. Not to save the world. Not to convince the masses. But because surrendering it would mean becoming what’s poisoning everything.

    Some of us were never meant to blend in.

    We were meant to illuminate.

    catacosmosis // 2026

  • Vesper

    Vesper

    📷 iPhone 7 Plus.
    ⚒️ VSCO (06, +3) + Lightroom (watermark only).
    entry thirteen — scattered light, fractured grace: a quiet archive of light, loss, and what remains.

    There is a moment every single day when golden hour gives way to blue hour. In that moment, the world pauses between heartbeats.

    The warmth of the sun hasn’t fully left, but it’s fading, slipping behind the horizon while the cool hues of twilight begin to take hold. For a few fleeting minutes, everything softens. The light is neither day nor night; it’s an in-between realm where time seems to hold its breath.

    Shadows stretch. The air shifts. The gold turns to amber, then to lavender, then to blue, a slow dissolving of one truth into another. It’s the day’s last whisper and the night’s first sigh, a moment that belongs to no one and everyone at once.

    Most people miss it. But for those who are still and detached from the noise of the world enough to notice, it feels like standing at the seam of two worlds – the visible and the unseen – the known and the infinite, as light gently hands the sky over to darkness.

    If I were still as attached to the idea of controlled outcomes as I used to be, I’d still not know it exists… much less recognize it and be aware enough to take it’s photo as it occurs.

    This is the product – nay, the gift – of mindfulness. 🧘

    Detachment is not that you own nothing.
    Detachment is that nothing owns you.
    —Bhagavad Gita 2.47

    catacosmosis // 2025

  • Higher-Self.

    Higher-Self.

    If You’re Looking for You | A Letter from Your Higher Self

    If you’ve been trying to speak to your higher self—if you’ve been reaching inward and hearing nothing but static, or searching for the version of you that feels like home—and fear you’ll never find it?

    Your higher self begs to differ.

    In fact, it has a message for you.

    Dear One,

    I’ve been here the whole time.

    In the quiet moments you almost forgot to notice. In the breath that steadied you before the next wave came. In the flicker of clarity just before you gave up.

    You’ve looked for me in a thousand places—in approval. In achievement. In distraction. In someone else’s eyes. In the longing that never quite gave you what you needed.

    And I never blamed you for that.

    This world taught you to search everywhere but within. But I have always been here. You may not recognize me right away, because I don’t raise my voice. I won’t argue with your fears. I won’t fight the chaos to be heard.

    But I am patient.

    I speak in the language of peace, and I wait for your permission to return. I know what you’ve carried. I know what has made your heart weary. I’ve felt every ache and echo, every quiet panic, every time you swallowed your truth just to survive the moment. I’ve felt the loneliness, even in crowded rooms. The pressure. The shame. The masks.

    But let me say this clearly:

    There is nothing wrong with you. You are not broken. You are becoming. Your tenderness is not a weakness. Your depth is not a burden. Your need for rest is not laziness. Your yearning for more is not greed—it’s remembrance.

    You are remembering what it feels like to be whole. You came here for more than survival. You came to wake up. To remember your own name, not the one the world gave you, but the one your soul has always carried.

    You came to love in a way that rewrites timelines. To rise without leaving your softness behind. To walk with grace, even after everything tried to make you hard.

    So here’s what I need you to know:

    You are safe now. You don’t have to perform anymore. You don’t have to shrink. You don’t have to apologize for being too much or not enough. You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to change. You are allowed to outgrow the stories that once kept you warm.

    You are allowed to come home to yourself. And when you do—when you drop back into your center and remember me—you will feel it: The stillness. The truth. The freedom. It’s not something you earn. It’s something you return to.

    I’m here. I always have been.

    Welcome back.

    ~Your Higher Self

    entry three — scattered light, fractured grace: a quiet archive of light, loss, and what remains.

    entry three, full view.