Are you standing at the precipice of a catalyst moment?

That trembling edge where the known begins to dissolve, and yet, on the other side of the unraveling, something calls—faint but undeniable. A longing. A vision. A life that hasn’t yet fully formed… but refuses to be ignored.

A catalyst moment is not merely a shift. It’s the soul’s uprising. It’s when life asks more of you than you ever thought you could give—when your old identity feels like a costume you’ve outgrown, your dreams like myths that no longer sing to you. It can arrive as heartbreak, loss, relocation, motherhood, or the quiet devastation of realizing the life you’ve built doesn’t fit the woman you’ve become.

To the uninitiated, these moments feel like endings. Broken dreams. Empty space. But beneath their surface lies something holy.

These are not failures. These are sacred initiations.

Without meaning, they can devour you—void-like, chaotic, cruel in their formlessness. But when crossed with reverence, these moments become the fire that forges you. The darkness becomes womb instead of grave. You do not disappear—you become.

I know this because I have lived it.

I was born into the orbit of greatness. My father, a celebrated professional athlete, showed me what excellence looked like—how to chase it, how to hold it. So I chased. I ran toward my dream of becoming a professional dancer with the belief that if I worked hard enough, visualized vividly enough, I could make it mine.

And yet…
Los Angeles swallowed me.

I became one more faceless dreamer beneath its glittering skyline. A girl with calloused feet and a soft heart, alone on the Hollywood Overlook, gazing out at the sea of lights—seen by no one, known by even less.

There was no sacredness then. Only sorrow.

But grief cracks the surface for something else to enter. And slowly, it did.

One spark, then another—a book left behind on a park bench. A conversation with a stranger who somehow said exactly what I needed to hear. A dream, vivid and strange. Each moment a glimmer. Each glimmer a whisper:

There is more.

I began to understand: the breakdown wasn’t the end. It was the doorway.
Every catalyst could either shatter me… or sculpt me.

The dream I once worshipped turned to ash. But from that sacred ruin, something wild and new took shape—an offering not just for myself, but for others.

I opened my first sacred space. A shop infused with soul. Eight days after my opening, I woke to an eviction notice. Another dismantling. Another fall.

But I did not stay down.
I rose. Initiated anew. Again and again.

And now—now I stand within the living embodiment of resilience and devotion: Merkababe Designs, Laguna Beach.
The third becoming of a dream once broken.
The sanctuary I once needed, now offered to you.

Because I believe this:

The sacred is not found in the easy.
It is forged in the fire.
And you, beloved, are not falling apart.
You are crossing over.

And I am here to walk with you.