Spirit Doesn’t Whisper — It Strikes: A Reflection on Power, Presence, and Rebirth

April 26, 2025

Today, after a day of traveling to a gem show, I walked back into Dragonfly.
The moment I stepped inside, I knew something was different.
Yes, it always smells amazing — but this was different.
It was thicker. Potent. Sacred.

As I turned on the lights, I was drawn to the altar — and that's when I saw it:
A candle was burning.
The Peruvian shaman candle, of all candles. (Mystic Pines Candle)
And no one had been there to light it.

It hadn’t been burning for long — maybe an hour or so based on how much wax had melted — but no way could it have been burning for 36+ hours, unattended, since we last closed the doors.
The air itself shimmered with mystery. And unmistakably, presence.

The ancestors had arrived.

And honestly, they’d already started stirring the pot before I even got here:
Last week, four spirit animal books literally flew off the shelf on their own.
No joke — they just leapt into motion, like something (or someone) was trying to get our attention.
Jaguar, anyone?

As if that wasn’t enough of a spiritual mic drop, the day unfolded even more:

Outside, one of my beloved trees — a gnarly old apple tree I’ve had such fondness for — had split and fallen.
Last week, I had just told someone how much I hoped that old tree would hold on a little longer.
But deep down, some part of me already knew: it was time to let it go.

Maybe it was struck by lightning.
Maybe it just surrendered to the weight of time.
Either way, the message was loud and clear: release what no longer holds life.

Funny enough (because Spirit has flair for timing), earlier this week, a memory popped up from years ago:
A photo taken by Darya of a tree my sister planted as a child, in a Dixie cup, no less — a tree that, years later, was struck by lightning and rebirthed itself into a crescent moon shape.

Darya won 1st place in contest at school with this picture...Titled:

Hope.
Love.
And a Dixie cup. 🌙 

The signs were braiding themselves together like an old, wise tapestry.
Layer after layer, thread after thread.

Today, as Carolyn prepared for her class, the door to the outside literally burst open.
No breeze. No one near it.
Just the ancestors, making their entrance — again.

And just to really drive the point home?
Carolyn told me she pulled a card today — and it was lightning.
Because when Spirit wants you to see the signs, it doesn’t whisper — it strikes.

It’s no accident that just a few nights ago, we held a cacao sound healing ceremony, raising the vibration of the space so high that one participant’s stuffed animal started to purr like a great cat.
Jaguar energy had been stirring.
Jaguar has been awaiting his weekend.

In shamanic traditions, Jaguar is a potent archetype of power, transformation, death, and rebirth.
Jaguar helps us navigate the wild, untamed realms within — the parts of ourselves we often fear facing.
It dares us to release old patterns.
To summon courage.
To cross thresholds.

And the apple tree? In spiritual lore, apple trees embody abundance, love, wisdom, and connection to the divine.
When an apple tree dies, it’s not just an ending — it’s a spiritual threshold.
An invitation to honor the life that was… and to welcome the rebirth that is already on its way.

The ancestors are not subtle this weekend.
They are kicking down doors, lighting flames, striking lightning, and whispering on the winds:
"Let go.
Trust the wild unknown.
Your next evolution is already here."

I honor the tree.
I honor the jaguar.
I honor the lightning.
I honor the weaving of it all.
And I honor the sacred cycle we are all invited to step into — fully, fiercely, fearlessly.

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