The One With... The Night Everything Began

Before the Opening...

There is a kind of doorway most people never walk through.

Not because it’s hidden, but because it asks too much.

It’s not found in churches, books, or schools.

It lives in stillness. In surrender.

In the quiet decision to look within, even when what you find might shatter you.

Some call it medicine.

Others call it madness.

To me, it was a mirror.

A mirror that didn’t show my reflection, but my truth.

A truth I had buried beneath years of survival, smiles, and silence.

This path doesn’t come in a bottle.

It isn’t smoked or swallowed for escape.

It is taken with intention, with reverence, with the hope of returning, not to a better version of yourself, but to your whole self.

It’s like holding hands with the universe.

Or falling backward into your soul.

It takes your wounds and whispers, "Look again."

It takes your past and says, "You’re ready now."

For some, it comes through gardening tools and green leaves.

For others, it arrives as a square of paper kissed by stars.

But what matters isn’t the form, it’s the opening.

An opening into memory. Into emotion. Into the ache and the beauty of being alive.

This isn’t a guidebook.

This is a story.

A remembering.

Of a night I met myself.

Of a night everything opened.

MabuHIGH with love,

Your HIGHness