There are moments in life that split you open.

Not with drama, not with spectacle — but with a quiet truth that you can’t unfeel.

You look around and realize: I am no longer who I once was.

Something has ended. Something is beginning.

And in that sacred space between —

you are becoming.

This is where I’ve been.

For months, I’ve lived in the in-between.

Shedding old skins.

Grieving silent goodbyes.

Listening to the voice of my soul more than the voices of the world.

And in the deepest stillness — my own hermit season — I found the shape of something new.

I didn’t rush it.

I couldn’t.

Because true transformation doesn’t arrive through willpower.

It arrives through surrender.

And now, I feel it:

A new archetype is awakening in me.

The High Priestess.

She who knows.

She who waits.

She who trusts the unseen.

And to honor her, I’ve designed my second tattoo —

a sacred piece, woven from the constellations of my soul.

“The Cosmic Rebirth”

This design isn’t just ink.

It’s a portal.

A memory.

A prophecy.

It tells the story of my sacred spiral — through death, dreaming, and divine vision.

Through the archetypes that have shaped me, softened me, and lit my path when I was walking in the dark.

At its base is Scorpio — the Death card.

The beginning of every real becoming.

A delicate scorpion tail curves upward, its stinger morphing into a crescent moon.

Around it, withered leaves drift gently downward, like parts of me that have finally been released.

Old identities. Old beliefs.

Old stories that once protected me, but no longer serve the woman I am now.

Scorpio taught me how to die — not literally, but soulfully.

To let go of everything I clung to for safety.

To sit inside the ashes of what once was, and not rush to rebuild.

There were nights I didn’t recognize myself.

Nights I felt so lost, I feared I would never find the light again.

But that’s the thing about death —

It’s not the end.

It’s the threshold.

Rising from the scorpion’s tail is Pisces — the Moon.

A crescent cradling two koi fish in a yin-yang dance, swimming in the waters of intuition.

Ripples rise like mist — soft, dreamy, and otherworldly — and within them, hidden runes and star symbols shimmer.

This is the space where I remembered my inner child.

Where I stopped needing certainty and started trusting the mystery.

In my quiet hermit season, it was Pisces who whispered to me in dreams.

Taught me how to float.

How to feel deeply without drowning.

How to let the unseen world guide me when the path ahead was fogged in moonlight.

The Moon didn’t give me answers — she gave me questions that unlocked my soul.

And at the top — rising like a prayer — is Aquarius — the Star.

A radiant 8-pointed light gleams above the mist, surrounded by flowing water that spirals from an urn, blessing everything below.

Above it all, constellations of Scorpio, Pisces, and Aquarius subtly glow — a map of where I’ve been, and where I’m going.

The Star is my future.

My hope.

My cosmic connection to something greater.

Aquarius taught me that I’m not here to repeat the past.

I’m here to invent something new.

To be a bridge — between earth and stars, between wounds and wisdom, between who I was and who I’m becoming.

This tattoo is not a decoration.

It is a declaration.

It is the mark of my rebirth.

The seal of the High Priestess in me who now walks with deeper knowing.

The woman who no longer chases, but magnetizes.

Who no longer fears the dark, because she’s learned how to see in it.

This is not just ink.

It is a memory of my descent.

A celebration of my emergence.

And a compass for where I’m going.

There were moments I thought I wouldn’t make it.

Moments I almost turned back to the familiar pain —

because pain, at least, I understood.

But then the quiet voice came:

“Don’t give up. You’re very close. Don’t give up now.”

And I listened.

And because I listened, I’ve arrived here —

on the threshold of a new life, marked by Spirit, sealed with soul.

To those walking their own spiral:

This journey isn’t linear.

It’s lunar.

It curves and dips and disappears — and sometimes, you feel like you’ve lost your way.

But symbols will find you.

Messages will speak to you in dreams, in the rain, in the pattern of falling leaves.

And one day, you’ll rise — not just healed,

but reborn.

So mark it, if your soul calls you to.

Write it in ink.

Wear it on your skin.

Let your body become a temple of remembrance.

Because your journey is sacred.

And you, beloved —

you are becoming the cosmos.