There are moments in life when the threads of time shimmer—when people cross your path and something deep inside you knows: this is not random. These are the moments I call magical synchronicities. And lately, they’ve been coming in like waves, gentle but undeniable.
It started with Angela—a woman I met through the Houston Sacred Women Community. We walked side by side through a labyrinth one Sunday, spiraling toward center, not knowing yet that our souls had already said yes to weaving something together. With her, I felt seen in a way I hadn’t in a long time—not for what I do, but for who I am becoming. It was like meeting a sister from another lifetime, one who had also walked the edge between spirit and structure. Our conversations sparked something ancient inside me—something ready to rise.
Then came Catalina, whose presence felt as if it had been conjured straight out of a dream. I met her at the Houston Botanical Gardens, where she was selling oils at a festival—earthy, radiant, magnetic. That first exchange was brief but potent, and soon after, I found myself at her “Year of the Snake”-themed sound bath, letting the vibrations move through layers of my spirit I hadn’t even realized were holding tension. I bought her poetry book, felt her words echo my own, and later danced in her honor at an ecstatic dance, shedding old skins and meeting a new version of myself in the rhythm. Catalina didn’t just sell oils—she offered an energy, a remembrance.
And then there was Kaisie, whose presence emerged like a whispered confirmation from the universe. I first saw her at the ecstatic dance—fluid, powerful, moving with a quiet freedom that spoke to something inside me. Then, after the labyrinth walk with Angela, we connected online, only to meet again in the soft, sacred energy of Menil Park. Each time our paths crossed, it felt like a continuation, a thread picking up where it left off. We danced together once more in that open, wild space of ecstatic movement, and soon after, I saw her post about Human Design. Something clicked. I signed up for her class—not just to learn a system, but to follow a breadcrumb trail my intuition laid out. She became a guide in the language of energetic alignment, unlocking parts of myself I had only begun to understand.
And just when I thought the circle was complete, Natasha arrived with her unexpected, intuitive nudges. A text here. A suggestion there. She wouldn’t call herself a seer, but she is. She says things “just because,” and yet somehow, they land like messages from the cosmos—perfectly timed, deeply affirming. It was Natasha who nudged me toward the next step, who unknowingly echoed the words I had whispered only to the trees. She reminded me that Spirit speaks in many tongues—and sometimes through the voices of our friends.
Each of these women has served as a sacred mirror, a signpost, a spark.
Each encounter left behind a shimmer of truth—evidence that I am not walking this path alone.
We are all weaving together something ancient and new—threads of healing, creation, remembrance.
These magical synchronicities are not just “coincidences.” They are callings.
Confirmations. Invitations to keep trusting the mystery.
Because when women come together—especially women called by spirit, by earth, by intuition—something alchemical happens. Something holy.
And I’m learning to say yes to it.
