Last night was an unexpected kind of magic.
I answered the call for an “Open Mic” event, expecting to share poetry. Instead, what unfolded was a beautiful exchange of stories. It became a gathering of souls reflecting pieces of themselves back to one another and, in the process, reclaiming parts of their own power.
It was a small, intimate gathering: seven seekers, one master of ceremonies, and a DJ offering sound support throughout the evening. As people arrived and settled into the space, I noticed that many, if not all, of them were healers in one form or another. There was an immediate sense that this was not a random collection of people. It felt as though the universe had intentionally gathered this particular group together for a reason.
Each of us had an opportunity to step up to the microphone and share within the carefully curated container that had been created. We began with simple stories about favorite journeys and meaningful trips. From there, the evening deepened. Five of us took turns sharing pieces of our lives. We shared the struggles we had endured, the lessons we had learned, and the truths we had uncovered along the way.
Several moments from the evening stand out in my memory.
One was listening to Angelena share a reflection on forgiveness and read a passage from a book she is currently writing. Her words stirred something in me and sparked realizations about my own book in progress. Inspired by her courage, I shared a small excerpt of my own work.
Angela was hesitant to step forward at first. Yet when she finally took the microphone, she unleashed a powerful story of self-healing and transformation. There was something beautiful about watching someone move from uncertainty into conviction simply by choosing to stand up and speak.
Sam shared a reflection on the stories we tell ourselves and the realities we create through our words. His message reminded me that language is never neutral. Our words are medicine. They carry a frequency, and the way we choose to speak to ourselves can either reinforce old wounds or help create new possibilities.
When my turn came, I spoke about confidence.
Recently, I had been looking at a professional headshot of myself that didn’t quite feel real. The woman in the photograph appeared poised, grounded, wise, and confident. She looked like someone who fully trusted herself. Looking at the image felt strange because I did not always recognize that version of myself.
Yet during a difficult moment, I found myself returning to that photograph. Instead of dismissing her as someone I wasn’t, I began asking myself what it would feel like to become her. Little by little, that shift in perspective helped pull me out of a negative spiral and into a place of greater acceptance of my own abilities.
Some of the most meaningful moments of the evening happened away from the microphone.
During a break, Leah told me that she could already see the confidence in me that I was struggling to find in myself. I showed her the photograph I had spoken about. After studying it for a moment, she smiled and said that the only difference between the woman in the picture and the woman standing in front of her was focus.
I have been trying to wrap my mind around that ever since.
The conversations continued long after the formal gathering ended.
Standing in the parking lot beneath the night sky, Angela and I shared a conversation that I think I will remember for a very long time. Earlier in the evening, I had shown both Leah and Angela an art journal I had brought with me. Angela returned to it during our conversation and offered an observation that landed deeply.
She told me that my art is an activation.
Those words have stayed with me.
Until now, I had mostly viewed my artwork as a form of self-expression, a way to process experiences or release creative energy. Her reflection invited me to see it differently, not simply as something I create, but as something that carries a message. Something guided. Something meant not only for me, but perhaps for the people who encounter it.
By the end of the evening, we all left feeling as though we had found new soul friends.
It also did not escape anyone’s attention that four of the women present shared variations of the name Angela, despite there being only seven participants and two hosts in total. The coincidence was mentioned more than once. Someone pointed out that Angela carries the root meaning of “angel,” and just outside the venue there happened to be a mural of a muse with angel wings painted on the side of the building.
Perhaps it was coincidence.
Or perhaps it was simply one more mirror.
Because that is what the entire evening felt like.
A room full of people reflecting one another’s gifts, struggles, wisdom, and potential. Every story shared seemed to illuminate something in someone else. Every vulnerability offered permission for another person to be vulnerable. Every act of courage inspired another act of courage.
In the end, we gathered for a group photograph in front of a mirror.
It felt fitting.
The whole evening had been an exercise in reflection. We were each holding mirrors for one another, helping each other see the parts of ourselves that are often difficult to recognize alone. Through our stories, our forgiveness, our honesty, and our willingness to be seen, we reclaimed pieces of ourselves that had been forgotten, doubted, or abandoned.
Most of all, we reclaimed our power, through the simple act of standing up and claiming it.
Before saying goodbye, we made a commitment to continue gathering in this way on a monthly basis. I left feeling grateful for the experience and curious about what will unfold next.
If last night taught me anything, it is that sometimes the people who help us see ourselves most clearly are the ones we have only just met.