it’s all coming back to me now.
It came out of nowhere—or maybe it didn’t. Like a ripple through time, I found myself back in my 6th grade classroom, clutching the copy of a book that once skimmed across the surface of my young mind without sinking in. Back then, I couldn’t grasp its weight. How could I? We were children being asked to contemplate memory, emotion, death, choice. Isn’t it ironic that we were handed these profound stories before we had lived enough to feel their truth. What did I miss then that I can finally hold now?
Back then, I read with the innocence of someone who had not yet been asked to forget. I hadn’t yet felt the full sting of loss, the hollowness of conformity, the ache of knowing something vital was missing but not knowing what. I didn’t know yet what it meant to be numbed for the sake of fitting in, to swallow my truth because it made others uncomfortable. I didn’t understand the loss of safety and the mask of silence.
But now? I’m activated.
Now, I understand the grief of awakening—what it means to see in color when others perpetuate grayscale. Now, I know what it is to remember feelings that society told me to suppress. Rage. Desire. Ecstasy. Mourning. Now, I know what it means to carry memory—not just personal, but collective, ancestral, cosmic. To feel the burden and the beauty of it.
I am one who remembers.
The Giver
At its heart, The Giver is a parable about remembrance, emotion, and the cost of control. The community in the novel has traded away difference, pain, and memory in exchange for safety, sameness, and predictability. But in doing so, they’ve also severed themselves from love, beauty, grief, joy, and truth. Jonas—the Receiver of Memory—is essentially a modern mystic or shamanic figure. He carries what the community cannot hold: collective memory, ancestral pain, beauty, and depth. Sound familiar?
1. Memory as a Portal
The memories Jonas receives are soul-encoded. They’re not just data—they’re emotional, sensory, and sacred. Memory here isn’t nostalgia, it’s remembrance in the spiritual sense: a return to wholeness, a reconnection with what was lost. Perhaps that’s why this story resonates so deeply now. In many ways, it reflects the heart of my work: guiding others back to the parts of themselves they were taught to abandon—whether by culture, conditioning, or the quiet ache of survival.
What parts of you were pushed into hiding? And what might happen if you remembered them now?
2. Emotion as Sacred
In the sanitized world of the book, emotions are numbed. Real feelings are considered dangerous. But Jonas feels deeply—and that makes him a threat and a healer. It mirrors the quiet (or not-so-quiet) longing in so many of us—to finally feel what’s been buried. To let rage have a voice. To let grief move through. To let love take up space without apology. The message is: feeling is divine. Suppressing it for the sake of control is a soul-death.
What if your emotions aren’t a problem to fix, but a truth to honor?
3. The Role of the Seer / Guide
The Giver is the one who holds what the community can’t—and ultimately transfers it to Jonas. There’s a lineage here: a passing of sacred wisdom from one holder of the flame to another. Maybe you’ve been feeling it too: to be a vessel, a bridge, a guide for others waking up.
What if your sensitivity is library, a sign of the path you’re here to walk?
4. The Courage to Leave
The ending, whether seen as death, transcendence, or liberation, shows Jonas leaving behind false safety for truth. The spiritual message here is that awakening often requires exile—from the systems, people, or mindsets that want you to stay small and compliant.
What false safeties have you outgrown—and what truth is calling you to cross the threshold, even if it means leaving familiar behind?
Quality of the Time
☀️ Sun in Taurus (April 20 – May 20, 2025): Stability, Simplicity, and Sensory Awakening
The Sun’s journey through Taurus invites a deep return to the senses — to the richness of color, the weight of music in the chest, the simple miracle of love, and even the raw truth of pain. Taurus teaches that true stability is not found in control, but in reverence for life’s full, embodied experience.
🌕 Full Moon in Scorpio (May 12, 2025): Emotional Depth and Transformation
The Full Moon in Scorpio on May 12, 2025, brings intense emotional energy, emphasizing themes of intimacy, power, and transformation. This lunation may lead to unexpected revelations and shifts in personal dynamics.
👁️ Pluto Retrograde in Aquarius (May 4 – October 13, 2025): Reassessing Power and Control
Pluto’s retrograde in Aquarius, beginning on May 4, 2025, invites deep introspection about societal structures, power dynamics, and the balance between individuality and collectivism.
🪐 Saturn Enters Aries (May 24, 2025): Initiating Personal Responsibility
Saturn’s entry into Aries on May 24, 2025, marks the beginning of a new cycle emphasizing personal responsibility, courage, and the pursuit of individual goals.
The Hierophant is the keeper of sacred knowledge, tradition, and collective memory, serving as a bridge between the divine and human worlds. He teaches wisdom passed down through generations, offering seekers guidance through ritual, ethics, and spiritual frameworks. At his best, he initiates others into deeper understanding; at his worst, he can enforce rigid conformity. The Hierophant asks us to explore the beliefs and traditions we’ve inherited — to discern what truly nourishes the soul and what must be questioned or reimagined. He ultimately speaks to the human longing for belonging, meaning, and connection to something greater than oneself.
Did something in this message resonate with you?
We’d love to hear how it connected to your life or experience! Whether it's a story, a recent shift, or just a feeling you can’t quite shake, give us a shout.
Sharing your story creates space for deeper connection—and who knows what insights might unfold! 💫