Thursday, July 24, 2025
A Circle, a Roar, and a Goodbye
I left home early because I felt like walking, like flowing. I was tired, but for some magical reason, I felt light during that walk. Light and full of energy to go to the circle.
When I arrived, I felt a kind of restlessness. Whenever I step into spaces of feminine energy, a deep sense of respect always mixes with a layer of fear. Because I was taught to doubt that energy. To fear it. Not to trust it.
It was symbolic: down there, without really knowing where we were going, four women met. And I thought it was beautiful. Because in the end, without knowing it, we were all walking toward the same place.
That’s where I met Estela. Not her real name, of course. But she already felt familiar to me. We had crossed paths in another circle and, even though we connected then, I’m not sure why I expected her to be warmer with me this time. I guess I projected something I needed onto her. Maybe, without realizing, I was hoping she would make up for my fear. I see it clearly now: I placed a weight on her that wasn’t hers to carry.
Inside, I spoke with Rose, one of the circle’s guides. She gave me peace. Then Lili cleansed me with smoke and scents, and as I entered the room, I felt the energy wrapping around me. At first it was soft, then more powerful, more vibrant, until I ended up feeling real warmth in my body.
I remember that right after entering, I had to step out again. I’d forgotten to pick a card, as they had told us to do when we arrived. Well, actually, I hadn’t forgotten. I had ignored it. I ignored it out of fear of not fitting in. Because all my fears showed up. Everything I had to work on revealed itself that day. And now I see it so clearly…
I picked a card: the Five of Wands. But when I returned to the circle, I realized that, without meaning to, I had also picked another one: the Six of Swords. One consciously, one unconsciously. One for the present, one for what I didn’t want to see. I’ll integrate them later.
I had a small internal debate about where to sit. I hesitated to sit next to Estela. But I felt good where I was, and I knew that was my place. That was a decision I made for myself, and I felt it instantly.
We began the circle. Rose and Lili spoke to us about the energy of the new moon in Leo. Rose is like a balm—receptive, gentle, earth and water. Lili is fire, air, strength. A writer who introduced herself as a witch—and I loved her energy. The balance between them guided the whole experience.
Leo, they said, is the big kid of the Zodiac. I was a child. I felt like playing, but also disconnected. Things were happening inside me, but I wasn’t aware yet.
It’s hard to believe I could transform so much in one afternoon. Thanks to all the women who were there. And to those who weren’t, but were invoked. Because in that moment, I felt her. I knew she was there. Supporting me. From her tenderness, from her loving energy. My great-grandmother Paquita. I felt her presence like a caress to the soul. And today, Sunday, she appeared again. Today, a circle closed. Today, a seed of intergenerational healing that was planted that day has been sealed.
After opening channels with oils, words, harmonization, and presence… we drank cacao. And that was another portal.
I had been debating all day whether to take a microdose of mushrooms. And I did. Less than 2.5 mg. Enough to open my subconscious, to let go of control. To allow myself to be moved through.
Then came the dance. Intuitive. Ecstatic. And before it, an exercise that marked me deeply: roaring. Roaring from the gut. Releasing what I am not, what no longer belongs to me.
At first, I felt embarrassed. I’m—was—used to being told what’s right and what’s wrong. To automatic, intrusive thoughts. To silencing my inner child. In fact, I didn’t want to play that game. But I did. The other women held me. Once again, sisterhood saved me.
And when we danced… I felt something I had never felt before. I felt my spirit alive. Fire inside me. A dancing flame. It leapt, it moved, it expanded. With every step, with every movement, I felt my soul freeing itself. Throwing fear into the air. Melting away resistance.
This was a before and after. Not just that Thursday at 8:30 p.m. A before and after in my life.
The moon was near its peak, at 9:11 p.m. And during the circle’s sharing, when each sister spoke from the heart, I opened mine. I got emotional. I broke. I cut off the emotion, yes, out of shame. But I felt heard. And loved, too.
In the end, I felt fear again. Because changes don’t happen overnight. Because patience is needed. Because it hurts to see, even though it hurts more to stay blind.
As I left, I noticed the women talking among themselves, and another wound was triggered. The wound of rejection. The same old thing. School all over again. Abandonment. Feeling left out. And I understood that if that wound is still alive, if it’s still present… then I also attract it. Like a mirror.
I hurried to leave. I saw Estela talking with another sister, and for a moment I felt I should have waited for her. But I didn’t. Because I didn’t feel it. I left.
The moment I stepped outside, I wrote a letter to Pablo. A toxic, on-and-off situationship that lasted eight years. Well, calling it a relationship is generous. He always came back, and I—patron saint of lost causes, magnet for the emotionally unavailable—never said no to sleeping with him. But that day… that day was different. I wrote to tell him it was over. Not to contact me again. The words burned in my stomach. It was like vomiting fire. I couldn’t not say it.
I also wrote to Luna. I told her certain things had hurt me and that I wanted to talk about them in person. That was setting a boundary in the sense of saying: I open my heart because I matter to myself. I listen to my own pain. Something new for me. Something I had never done this way before.
Leaving the circle was like leaving a magical womb. And beginning to give birth to myself.
This personal journey continues to inspire my past, present, and future music, which you can discover here.
Sunday, July 27, 2025
A Doorway Through Stillness
Since Thursday, I’ve been stirred up—more unsettled inside than the shifting sands of my own emotional landscape.
It felt like a calm kind of chaos; like the sea right before a storm: everything in order amid so much stillness, yet I knew something was brewing behind all those clouds of doubt.
And at the same time—as if the New Moon in Leo whispered it in my ear—I’ve felt a fierce need to be myself at all costs. To roar unapologetically, without explanations, to laugh in fear’s face. And it came naturally, as if that truth had been waiting my whole life to be let out. Still, I was tired. Too tired.
So I decided to go to a yin yoga class with a sound bath. No expectations. I just wanted to relax. It was in my neighborhood—Gràcia, Barcelona—where there’s this invisible yet palpable air of everyday spirituality: yoga studios, healing centers, bodies that are also temples. I’d never been to this place, nor met the teacher. I let myself be guided by impulse. Blessed intuition.
Before arriving, I spent time with a couple of friends. One of them, Julian, with whom I recently cleared a fresh wound: a misunderstanding that made me feel excluded, invisible. (That old wound of not being enough, of not being chosen, has also been roaring these days.)
The energy felt subtly gray, like a thin mist. There was a moment when I almost canceled the class. Yes, the tiredness was real, but the doubt wasn’t only in my body. It felt like a kind of subtle sabotage—like an old voice trying to keep me locked away in a golden tower of ego, throwing the key into the river as I stood there in disbelief. It made me wonder what kind of energy was resonating there. Was it mine? Was it his? Was it ours?
Luckily, I went. I changed into yoga pants, ran out, and made it in time.
The class was with Alicia, a teacher of Chinese medicine… I loved her energy so much, it sparkled. She spoke about the New Moon in Leo (which I was already familiar with), and my intention was simple: relax. But what happened after was anything but simple.
We started with self-massage and tapping. When I touched my vagus nerve, I touched something deeper. Coughing was my body speaking. Massaging my chest with my fingers in the shape of a heart, I felt pain. And I’ll admit it: it still hurts. This is my opening. This is the slow demolition—blow by blow, with love—of the wall that’s been quietly blocking my chest, withering it… but never fully suffocating it, thankfully. Although perhaps that’s the height of cruelty: I have a wall of reinforced concrete between my ribs. But I hold the sledgehammer. And it’s made of forged love.
When we lay down in savasana, I began to travel. Inhale, exhale. I’m deeply connected to my breath. It’s my home, my anchor, my direct access to myself. My body grew heavy. I saw light. I saw my great-grandmother Paquita—a flash, a presence. When I brought awareness to it, she vanished. But she had been there.
And then it happened: an experience I don’t know how to name. Not out-of-body, but ultra-sensory. Complete darkness, without fear. A full void. Absolute peace. It lasted three seconds. But it changed something. Yes, it scared me. But it also gave me certainty. What I felt there… was real. As if the truest part of me lived there, in that non-space, in that bodyless silence. If death feels like that, I’m ready. I don’t know if there’s something after. But if that’s it—that state—I can live without fear. I want to return there. I want to practice dissolving, surrendering, being without a name.
Today, I’ve seen the path. And I know that, at some point, I will take ayahuasca. But not before I heal my greatest wound: the one around love, nurturing, feminine energy. That broken line between the women in my family. A line of insecurity, fear, subtle toxicity. Where the shadow reflected in another woman triggers the alarm, and everything breaks. But on Thursday I saw my great-grandmother. And today I felt her with me.
She showed me that there is also a line of love. A line of warmth. Paquita, her rosary, her photo on my altar. She was the sweetest woman I’ve ever known. Today I wrote to my grandmother to learn more about her mother, about Paquita’s mother. I learned things that fit. I feel like someone has lit a candle in that broken line. A candle of love. A steady, unshakable light. That candle, today, has been lit.
And as if the universe wanted to seal all of this, at the end of the class, Alicia invited us to pull an oracle card. Mine was number 27: Sisterhood. It read: “A sister will take care of you.”
There couldn’t be a clearer message. My hands chose it. My hands know. Reiki. Living energy.
And now, yes—the circle has closed. Before going any further, before entering more intense rituals, I know my task is to keep healing this wound, this feminine energy within me. I’m not in a rush anymore. There’s no urgency. But today I know:
The path is already drawn.
And now, it is drawn by love alone.
This personal journey continues to inspire my past, present, and future music, which you can discover here.
Wednesday, August 6, 2025
Emotional
Clearing Day
I started the day dancing, even though I didn’t feel like dancing. If nothing else, today I became aware of something valuable: breaking expectations. Strangely enough, when my mind envisions a future event without my heart being involved—without asking “How am I feeling? What do I actually want?” rather than “What does my conditioned mind think is best for me?”—the reality, when lived in presence, often turns out completely opposite to my expectations. Expectations are mental. A healthy heart doesn’t need to predict anything; it’s content simply with feeling what it needs in each moment.
That said, my heart (and therefore I) wanted to spend more time with myself. And right in that moment, my body asked for something else: to draw, to write. To flow. I did automatic writing with my eyes closed. From there, the core emerged into my conscious surface. The center of it all. My body—wanting to heal. It’s been crying out for this for years. And it’s doing it now. It’s in the process. Emotions are moving through, allowing themselves to be felt so they can finally leave after being repressed for so long.
Then, I wanted to sing. Songs I’ve known forever. With some, I broke. Crying brought with it a deep sense of release. These days I cry for everything and nothing in particular—for having allowed myself to live in the ego’s fictional, alienated dystopia, disconnected from my precious source of emotions.
On the first of this month, I let go of my old self. I released her hand. Because now I act from presence, from emotion. Nowadays, with the whole New Age movement, I feel we’ve filled our mouths with “consciousness,” which is nothing more than a permanent state of being.
We classify emotions as transient states (more or less manic / dramatic) that don’t belong to us—in fact, we detach from them. Because for years society has taught us to see emotions as something wrong, something shameful. But if we misunderstand them like that, how could we not repress them?
In truth, emotions are indicators of our consciousness. They tell us, at every moment, how we are. And a calm, healthy heart will awaken emotions on the same frequency. With my hand on my heart, I believe we understand emotions very little—and often, badly.
Today has been full of symbolism. It marked the closing of my Lammas ritual. I went out to lunch with a man who was a friend of my father and my uncle—both of whom have passed away. I see him around the neighborhood often, and some time ago we said we’d have lunch together with my grandmother. The fact that it happened today, right as I’m coming down from the mountain of my process, is no coincidence.
A neighbor, Marcel, appeared. He gave my grandmother and me a book he’d written: L'Univers mñes a prop. He dedicated it:
“Andrea (Andy), never stop singing.”
The universe’s message is clear. My voice matters—it always has. I’m grateful that life reminds me of it through wonderful people, from time to time.
During the abundant meal, I felt that both my grandmother and my father’s friend live somewhat disconnected from their emotions. My grandmother says she doesn’t want to remember what makes her suffer. And my father’s friend… I don’t know him as well, but something tells me he’s also had to repress a lot to survive. Just as I did for so long.
They have been a mirror for me—one I now observe with compassion, but no longer reflect myself in. I want to feel. Because even if it hurts, feeling is also living. And I want to live awake. There will be happy days and others not so much, but at least now I’m shaping my reality from my truth, my way. The people around me, my work, my decisions… everything aligns because I’ve decided it should.
Yes, I’m more exposed. More vulnerable. But I’m me. I don’t want to live on autopilot. I don’t want to be an entity erased by fear, forbidden to think or feel.
I want to keep being a creative being.
Today’s “ceremony” wasn’t what I expected. It didn’t have the transcendental impact I had imagined. And yet, there lies the lesson. Thanks to my daily thoughts journal—365 little messages of consciousness—I understood something deep today, before sitting down to my comforting, medicinal miso ramen soup, after a yin yoga session.
One of Lao Tzu’s thoughts reminded me that not everything needs to be big to be true:
“He who stands on tiptoe soon loses balance.
He who takes giant steps will not reach the end of the journey.
He who seeks to shine does not illuminate.
He who makes himself important does not impose.”
I just want to be.
And today, I’m at ease in my being.
I’m happy in my being.
This afternoon, I felt that I’m on the path. I am, every day. Because I’m already living consciously—no longer running from myself, but finding myself. Enjoying being who I am.
Today has been a day of emotional clearing. Of releasing. Of healing.
And I won’t lie: at times, the past tried to sneak back in. Fear, doubt.
But I don’t judge my body. It’s only been trying to protect me. It always has.
And here I am. I’ve done it. I’m proud of myself.
I’ve returned home, to my calm.
With an open heart.
And here I remain.
This personal journey continues to inspire my past, present, and future music, which you can discover here.