Tiger Eye Tuesdays is the name I give to a small weekly pause. I keep a tiger’s eye stone nearby as a reminder of grounded courage: the kind that sees life clearly and keeps moving with care. The stone cannot make a choice for me or promise an outcome. It helps me remember what I want to practice. On Tuesdays, I check in with myself and ask what it means to keep showing up as I am.
That question feels different after the year I have lived. In May, I received a heart and kidney transplant. Gratitude is part of that story, but it is not the whole story. Recovery has its own pace. There are days when I feel ready to imagine what comes next, and days when the next right thing is simply to respect what my body is asking of me. I am learning that both kinds of days belong to the same life.
For a long time, I measured progress by how quickly I could return to my routines and plans. I wanted forward motion to look obvious. This season has asked me to loosen that picture. Some progress is visible. Some happens quietly: letting a moment be a moment, accepting support, or noticing that my definition of strength has changed. I still have hopes for my work, my education, and the life I am building. I am learning to hold those hopes without demanding that I arrive at them all at once.
This has also changed how I think about Tha Alchemy Studios. I do not offer Reiki in Houston from a place of having everything figured out. I offer it as a Reiki Master Teacher and sound healer who knows that people arrive carrying real lives, not neat stories. Reiki and sound healing are spiritual wellness practices, not medical treatment or a guaranteed solution. For me, they create room to pause, listen inward, and reconnect with what feels meaningful. They do not erase uncertainty; they can give us a gentle place to meet it.
That is what Tiger Eye Tuesday means to me now: clear eyes, steady feet, and permission to begin again at an honest pace. It is a small ritual, not a rule. It reminds me that courage can be quiet and that a pause can still be part of moving forward.
If you are in a season of change, I am not writing to tell you what to do. I can only offer my testimony. I have been changed by experiences I did not choose, and I am still learning how to make a life from here. Some days that looks like a plan. Some days it looks like patience. I am still here, still becoming, and still making space for hope.
From my desk at Tha Alchemy Studios, this is my invitation to keep company with your own becoming. Not because the road is simple, but because even an unfinished chapter can hold a little light.