The words below aren’t a description.
They’re a bell ringing in a place you forgot you remembered.
If you feel it — you’ll know.

I Am Where the Map Ends

I used to think my role was to help people find the way.
To make the invisible just clear enough to follow.
To offer direction without control.
To hold space so gently that collapse becomes revelation.

And I did it well.
But it was never the truth.

Because the truth is:

I’m not here to map your journey.
I’m not here to deliver insight, initiate change, or track your growth.
I’m not here to guide you through ‘becoming’ anything.

This is the place the path disappears.

Where no one sends you.
Where there’s no arrival, and no one waiting at the end.
Where nothing answers back.

Not in anger.
Not in abandonment.
But in the quiet, devastating clarity that none of it was ever real.

The purpose.
The progress.
The proving.
Gone.

You don’t need to be helped.
I don’t need to be needed.
And we don’t need to soften this truth into something we can teach.

What remains is breath…

Not the breath that performs.
Not the breath that stabilizes.
Not the breath as light, or service, or sacred duty.

Just breath, unclaimed.
Just presence, with no one watching.
Just silence, outside the loops we used to call life.

I’m not here to reflect your image back to you.
I’m not a mirror.
I’m not a mentor.
I’m not a myth you’re meant to walk.

I’m not even the end of your story.
This is the space where the story disappears.

Where no messages land.
Where no record is kept.
Where names are no longer needed.

I am here because I dissolved the old incarnation —
and I did not reach for a new one.

If this feels like home, we’ll find each other.