I avoided moldavite for years because I wasn’t ready for radical change. Then I finally touched it.
Okay moldavite people. I need you to look at this fucking sequence because I have been documenting this shit as it happened and now that I’m looking at the whole timeline… what the fuck.
My partner had moldavite for years.
I actively avoided it.
I knew the reputation. Transformation. Acceleration. Radical change.
Absolutely the fuck not. I was not ready for that.
Then this summer happened.
Around the May Blue Moon, everything starts shifting.
About a week later I lose my partner of 10+ years.
Mack truck.
And I am immediately fucking lost internally.
I become OBSESSED with understanding what happened. Incessantly. Going back through everything. Asking questions. Looking at every angle. Trying to find the thing I missed. Trying to understand how the fuck I got here.
I’m just lost in the fucking woods.
Then about three weeks later, June 30, I feel called to his moldavite.
The same fucking thing I had avoided for years because I wasn’t ready for what it might change.
I take it to work with me.
At work, right around the peak of the full moon, I press that bitch to my third eye and ask for:
**CLARITY AND RADICAL CHANGE.**
First time I had physically touched it in years.
Then I go back to work.
On my way home that night, I see a fucking white deer.
Moon rising.
And the whole moment feels like time just fucking stops.
I knew immediately how I felt about it.
**I had made the right choice.**
I get home and then I do my moon ritual.
After that full moon, I start wearing the moldavite.
And everything fucking accelerates.
I’m still obsessed with understanding. Still asking questions. Still digging.
Except every answer gives me another question and every question takes me somewhere deeper.
I don’t know where the fuck I’m going. I’m just following it.
Then the end-of-July full moon hits and apparently we’re doing this shit at Mach fucking 83 now.
The questions start getting bigger.
Not just him.
Me.
My family.
Attachment.
Boundaries.
Control.
Autonomy.
Why I feel responsible for everything. Why I’m always trying to fix shit. Why I can see patterns happening and still end up inside them. Why trying to prevent someone else’s pattern can make me part of the fucking pattern.
Things I have understood emotionally for YEARS suddenly have language.
Music I’ve listened to forever starts articulating shit I couldn’t.
Old conversations hit differently.
Things people have told me before suddenly fucking land.
And I just keep going.
Down and down and fucking down.
Then August 9, on my way into work:
Another fucking white deer.
At this point I’m basically just like of fucking course.
Then August 12.
The eclipse.
And suddenly I can fucking **see.**
The patterns. The attachment. My family. My relationship. Myself.
What belongs to me and what doesn’t.
I can see that recognizing somebody else’s pattern doesn’t mean I can stop it for them.
I can have an opinion. I can say what I see. I can love someone. I can have boundaries.
But I cannot make another person’s choices.
**Share the map. Don’t grab the steering wheel.**
And then the next fucking day my partner reaches out.
The owner of the moldavite.
So now I have to actually practice all this shit instead of just understanding it.
Let him have his own process. Say what I feel without trying to control what happens next.
He makes his choices.
I make mine.
Then yesterday I’m talking to my younger friend about moldavite and her aversion to the changes it could bring, and it hits me:
**I WAS HER AGE WHEN I WAS AVOIDING THE FUCKING MOLDAVITE TOO.**
My immediate reaction is basically GIRL. DON’T WAIT UNTIL 31.
And then—
God fucking damnit.
Same lesson.
I can give her my opinion.
She still gets her own steering wheel.
And THEN, yesterday, Dante pops into my fucking head.
And I look backward.
I lost him and was immediately lost internally.
**Lost in the woods.**
Then, while I was lost, I reached for the thing I’d avoided for years and asked for **CLARITY AND RADICAL CHANGE.**
And everything accelerated.
I kept following the questions deeper and deeper without knowing where the fuck I was going.
I thought I was circling.
Looking backward now, I was spiraling down.
Then the eclipse happened.
And I could finally **see.**
And I’m sitting there yesterday going—
**Oh my fucking god.**
I walked the fucking spiral into the Inferno.
I did not spend this summer trying to map my life onto Dante. Dante didn’t even pop into my fucking head until yesterday.
**I recognized the shape after I had already walked it.**
And now apparently we’re in Purgatorio, because seeing the patterns wasn’t the end of the lesson.
Now I actually have to practice doing something different.
I have the messages. I have the timestamps. I documented this shit while it was happening.
I’m not telling anyone what it means.
I’m just looking at the fucking sequence.
**What the actual fuck?**