Tiger Eye Tuesdays is my weekly touchstone for grounded courage and reflection. Tiger’s eye reminds me to look at what is actually in front of me, rather than everything I imagine I ought to accomplish. This Tuesday, I am thinking about attention: where mine goes, what it costs, and what deserves it in this season of my life.
I care about many things. My education. My spiritual life. Meaningful work. The vision behind Tha Alchemy Studios and Tha Alchemy Institute. Each holds a piece of who I am. Because they matter, it can be tempting to treat every possibility as an immediate responsibility. I recognize that pull in myself. Having a vision feels energizing; carrying every part of it at once can become exhausting.
Authenticity and freedom are two of my deepest values. Yet there is a tension I keep noticing: I can be so committed to becoming better that I leave very little room to simply experience the life I have. A list can hold useful intentions, but it can also become a running argument with the present. I do not want my sense of worth to depend on how much I manage to finish.
Being a graduate counseling student and a Reiki practitioner gives me different ways to think about care. My studies ask me to keep learning, questioning, and developing competence. My spiritual practice brings me back to presence and intention. Neither role makes me someone with unlimited energy. I am still a person with choices to make about what I can give, and what I need to receive.
As October moves toward the end of the year, I feel the invitation to make plans. I also want to make those plans honestly. There is a difference between a dream losing its meaning and a dream needing a little more time. I am learning to allow that distinction without turning it into a verdict about my commitment. Something can remain important even when it is not the next thing I do.
At Tha Alchemy Studios in Houston, my intention is to offer room for people to meet themselves with care. That intention also belongs in my own life. Reiki and sound healing are complementary spiritual wellness practices, not medical or mental-health treatment. What draws me to them is the space for attention, quiet, and personal meaning. I want the way I build my work to reflect the same care I hope to offer through it.
This is not a formula I have mastered. It is a question I am living with: what matters now? Sometimes the answer is learning. Sometimes it is rest, a practical task, or staying connected to something that gives life meaning. I am trying to make room for answers that are less impressive from the outside and more honest from the inside.
My testimony this week is simple. I can care deeply about my future and still give the present my attention. That feels like a freedom worth practicing.