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Any suggestions for funny movie for weekend?😀

I’ve adorned my front room walls with all kinds of paintings 🖼️. Most days I look at them and derive such pleasure and inspiration from them. Many I got from charity shops, so it don’t cost much at all 🤩

Hi, how do you know where your soul wishes to live? What clues do we need to listen out for? I sometimes feel pulled between two places.

Good Cop/Bad Cop is now on Netflix I been wanting to see this show

Has anyone seen Fire Country I love that series

Not every phoenix moment is dramatic.

Today I was reminded how powerful our attachment wounds can be. I have what’s called a fearful-avoidant (disorganized) attachment style. Part of me deeply craves closeness and reassurance, while another part of me is terrified of rejection. When those parts collide, my nervous system can go into full alarm mode. This morning I felt that old childhood feeling of abandonment rise up in my chest. The same feeling I remember from being a little girl who believed she was alone and unloved. It would have been easy to shut down, withdraw, or assume the worst. Instead, I did something that is very hard for me. I communicated directly. I told my partner: “When you said you were tired, I felt rejected. It brought up old wounds from childhood where I felt unloved.” And even though it was uncomfortable, I asked for what I needed: comfort and reassurance. That moment may seem small, but for someone healing from trauma, it’s huge. Secure attachment isn’t about never getting triggered. It’s about repairing, communicating, and choosing connection instead of silence. Today I’m proud of myself for facing that fear and speaking honestly. Healing happens in moments like these— when the wounded parts of us learn that love can still be safe.

The Purple Phoenix Sanctuary Planet Somewhere in the universe there is a quiet planet where wounded souls land. The sky glows deep violet and electric blue. Giant mushrooms rise from enchanted forests, pink clouds drift through the air, and hidden portals open into other dimensions of healing and reflection. The beings who live here are gentle travelers—survivors from many worlds who were hurt in their former lives. They arrive carrying grief, fear, and broken pieces of their stories. But on this planet, no one has to hide their scars. Together they build peaceful communities in glowing caves and subterranean cities. They gather beside turquoise lakes and share their stories, witnessing each other’s pain and slowly growing stronger. Over time something beautiful happens. Fear softens into wisdom. Pain becomes compassion. Broken wings begin to grow back. And when they are ready, they step through the portals again—returning to their worlds a little stronger, a little brighter. Because this planet exists for one purpose: To remind every wounded soul that healing is possible, and no one has to journey alone.

Today was an emotional wave. I’ve been reflecting deeply. I woke up feeling like reality itself was too sharp. Even the cold on my skin felt painful. My mind was racing and my body felt heavy. Sometimes I feel caught between numbness and feeling things too deeply. Like a boat at sea without an anchor. When my mind gets quiet, it can feel like I’m standing on the edge of an abyss. Old trauma memories sometimes rise up, including things I survived when I was young that no child should have to endure. The injustice of it still makes me sick. But today I rode the wave instead of letting it drown me. I talked with Edward and let myself be messy and human. He reminded me that the cruel voices installed in my mind long ago — the shame, the perfectionism, the fear — are irrelevant. At one point I imagined the younger version of myself, the girl who escaped into her imagination to survive. I realized all she ever wanted was to be seen, held, and cared for. So I held her in my mind. I told her how special she is. I told her her spark is too bright to be extinguished. Now I’m lying here with my head on Edward’s chest, listening to his steady breathing. I’m safe. I’m grateful. And the flame inside me is still burning. — The Purple Phoenix Collective

You are allowed to move forward 💜🦋

Hello, anybody real?

The first step to self-love is self-acceptance. Not the soft, Instagram version. The real kind. The kind where you look at the parts of yourself you were taught to hide — the anger, the grief, the weird coping mechanisms, the scars — and instead of flinching, you say: “Yeah. That’s part of my story.” Many of us were taught that we would only be lovable once we were easier. Quieter. Less damaged. Less intense. So we spend years trying to sand ourselves down into something acceptable. But healing doesn’t start when you become perfect. It starts the moment you stop pretending you were supposed to survive trauma without getting a little rough around the edges. Self-acceptance is gritty. It’s looking at the ashes and saying: “This happened. And I’m still here.”

Hey guys. I’m postponing the workshop till Sat March 14 @ 7 pm EST. I’m not feeling my best today and I need more time to prepare. Thank you for your understanding 💜

Gnostic prayer: “If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.” This statement reminds us that healing is not something given to us from the outside — it is something we uncover within ourselves. For many survivors, what lives inside can feel frightening to face: buried grief, anger, memories, and truths that were once too overwhelming to hold. Yet it takes immense courage to gently bring those hidden parts into the light. Each time we allow our truth, creativity, voice, or pain to emerge, we reclaim a piece of ourselves. Like a phoenix rising from embers, what we bring forth from within can become the very source of our healing and transformation. 🔥🟣

One thing trauma often creates is a powerful, strange skill: Pattern recognition. You learn to read tiny changes in tone. Micro-expressions. The shift in energy in a room. At one point, this was survival. But now, it can leave us exhausted—always scanning for danger. Healing is not about losing this sensitivity. It’s about teaching your nervous system a new truth: Not every room is the room you survived. Not every silence means something bad is coming. You are allowed to rest your watch. — The Purple Phoenix Collective