You Are the Portal

Time bends for the one who remembers they are the threshold.

I watched the sun fall for the final time of 2025 with reverence.
I watched it rise on 2026 with audacity.

I ended last year with my own words as scripture.
I began this one with my own voice as a spell.

Because I am the oracle now.

No chasing.
No bracing.
No searching for proof in someone else’s gaze.

Just presence.
Just devotion.
Just the thrum of my own resonance—steady, undeniable.

I closed the final chapter of 2025 in gratitude.
Not the glossy kind.
The kind etched in bone.
The kind you earn from surviving what could have drowned you.
The kind that tastes like honey and salt, all at once.

And when the first light of 2026 split the sky,
I was already listening.
Already choosing.
Already returned to myself.

This year, I am not starting over.
I am starting from.

From overflow.
From clarity.
From capacity reclaimed.

I’m letting joy lead.

Not performative pleasure or curated delight,
but true joy.
The kind that recalibrates timelines and rewrites DNA.

I’m saying no as ritual.
Yes as revelation.
And maybe… only when the dream is still ripening.

I’m writing for blood and balm.
Reading both ledgers and lore.
Letting fiction fracture my heart open.
Letting balance sheets whisper their truths.

There are rose quartz clusters on my desk
and chocolate fingerprints on my spreadsheets.
There is ritual in my water and spells in my honey.
There are tenors in my imagination,
serenading each cell into holy readiness—each one opening, eager, expectant—for the delights already being poured into my becoming.

I’m wordy by design.
Voluminous by nature.
Undone by beauty on a daily basis.
Built for bigness.
Sourced in softness.

I nap with purpose.
I binge-watch with ceremony.
I laugh loud.
I grieve clean.
I choose again and again to pour back into the world because I have the sheer audacity to believe it can be reshaped by those of us who lead with vision, value, and reverence.

And underneath it all:
Big Money Energy.
The frequency of right relationship.
Of legacy without sacrifice.
Of being so deeply anchored
that expansion feels inevitable.

2026 isn’t a reset.
It’s a continuation of something holy.
An inheritance I’m finally ready to claim.

Thank you.
More, please.
And then some.

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You don’t need a Gregorian calendar.
Or a lunar new year.
Or a Chinese zodiac to strike its gong.

You are the portal.

The threshold is not on the calendar.
It’s in your cells.
Your breath.
Your yes.

Yes, I marked the turning of the year with reverence.
Yes, I met the sun on January 1st with open hands.
But let’s be clear—
the same could be said for any given Tuesday.
Any moment can become the altar.
Any breath can become the beginning.

This is the truth that frees us:
We begin when we say so.
We reset when we reclaim ourselves.
We continue when we remember we were never broken.

Time bends for those who remember they are the threshold.

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👉 Reflection Prompts:

• What moment in your life deserves to be seen as a beginning, even if no calendar named it as one?

• What would it look like to begin from overflow instead of urgency?

• Which part of your life is already whispering, “we’ve arrived”—even if your mind hasn’t caught up yet?

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🔥 Daily Affirmation
I root in resonance.
I expand from clarity.
I command overflow.
I move as medicine.
I carry joy as ritual.
I am already who I came here to be.

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PS: Profit is Protest and so is remembering that the calendar doesn’t crown you—you do. You are the threshold. The altar. The source.
Let this be the year your name echoes through rooms you’ve yet to enter.