The Dance Between Devotion and Doubt
Too human to be holy?
There are days when my divinity is undeniable—when I am crowned, cloaked, and radiant with knowing. At these times, I feel at one with Source, as if we’re the naughty kids in the back of the classroom giggling and sharing inside jokes.
When I’m tuned into the frequency of Spirit, I know the next words that will leave someone’s mouth before they say them. I can feel the energetic spaces that linger between a situation and sense the truth of what’s really being said—or felt.
It’s then I feel my connection run from crown to foot, tingling as I plug barefoot into the Earth’s frequency.
And then… there are days when I curl into myself.
When I let my wounds and doubts overtake me, curling into the comfort of uncertainty as I judge myself against the ones who chant louder, dress whiter, or just seem to walk taller in the circles we call sacred.
I shrink into the priestess who forgets she’s crowned when others beat louder drums.
Yesterday was one of those days.
A ceremony.
An unpeeling.
A silent retreat inward.
A temazcal, where I left feeling cracked open. I knew I wanted to clear out what no longer served me. I wanted the transformative heat of the fire to mould me into my next form.
And for that, the medicine worked—just not how I thought it would.
Pah! Silly human. Of course not.
I didn’t come out more certain.
I came out raw. Tender.
Questioning the version of me others think they see… and the version of me I sometimes hide.
Questioning my lineage, my depth, my voice.
The thing with me is—I walk between two worlds.
The light and the dark.
The spiritual and the profane.
I enjoy the contrast.
I call it my edge.
I love the warmth of the light just as much as the grit of the darkness.
Over the weekend, I ended up in two conversations with people very much rooted in the love-and-light-only, kumbaya world. As I shared my perspective, they stared—bemused, low-key judgmental.
There was a time when I was ashamed of the part of me that loved being immersed in heavy bass lines, under red lights, surrounded by sweaty bodies lost in rhythm. A time when I’d hide the fact that I felt just as empowered there as I did sitting in sacred circle, in divine communion with incredible women, holding space for one another.
Both of these empower me.
Both of these are still part of the path.
Some women channel through light.
I channel through the dark.
Some roar.
Some whisper spells into the bones of the earth.
Some simply exist—letting the resonance of their being shift the world around them.
I don’t just navigate contrast—I dance with it.
I let myself be taken for the ride, exploring the crevices, observing the feelings that rise and demand to be heard.
My humanity is just as much a part of my divinity.
Different doesn’t mean lesser.
It means necessary.
As I sat in the darkness of a burning-hot temazcal in the middle of the Mexican jungle, singing, proclaiming, and screaming into the sacred fire, surrounded by medicine women, I realised:
For all the things I know, I still have so much to learn.
To let go of.
To offer compassion to.
As I felt the fragrant water on my skin and smelled the pungent aroma of cacao, honey, and sacred herbs rising from the abuela stones, I honoured the wisdom I’ve earned—and what I’m still becoming.
Maybe the path isn’t about always standing tall.
Maybe it’s about staying true, even when you’re curled into your doubt.
I’m not here to be the loudest in the room—I’m here to be the most honest.
And that is what pisses people off.
People who want to stay in their bubble. Who fear the nuance. Who chant one thing in safe circles but never live it in the real world.
I’m not some floaty, disconnected priestess floating above it all—
I’m embodied, grounded, and sacred in the mess of life.
That’s what the women I’m meant to guide need to see.
They need someone who can walk through the underworld and brunch like a goddess.
Someone who knows her shadows by name—but doesn’t live in them.
Who’s unafraid to say, “I don’t know yet, but I’m listening.”
Who brings devotion into everything—doubt, tequila, and temptation.
So, I’ll leave you with this:
🌑 Where are you afraid to walk between two worlds?
🌑 What parts of you feel too contradictory to coexist?
✨ If you’re new here and this resonated with you, welcome. I recently introduced the D.A.R.K. Method™: a path back to your power through Descent · Alchemy · Reclamation · Knowing.
🖤 You can read the love letter that started it all here.
🌹 And if you’re dancing this same edge—between goddess and ghost, wise and wounded, mystic and mess—Persephone’s Path was made for you. Dive deeper here.
Or just drop me a message and say hi.
I don’t bite.
...Unless you ask me to. 😏
With love and magic,
Sim xxx
