For a long time, I wouldn’t have described myself as spiritual. In fact, I remember sitting in the car with my boyfriend having a conversation about it. I can’t remember exactly how we ended up on the subject, but I remember saying that I didn’t think I was spiritual at all.
He laughed and started listing all the things I loved. The moon. Crystals. Nature. Journalling. Astrology. Energy healing. The way I found meaning in little rituals and quiet moments. The way I was always curious about why people are the way they are and what makes us feel connected to something bigger than ourselves.
As he spoke, I realised he might have a point. The funny thing is that I think I had an idea in my head of what a spiritual person looked like, and I didn’t think I fit it.
The same thing happened with words like pagan and witch. They weren’t words I felt comfortable with. Growing up, they carried certain connotations and felt a little misunderstood. They were labels that belonged to other people, not me. Or at least that’s what I thought.
As time has gone on, I’ve realised that many of the things associated with those paths are things I’ve always naturally gravitated towards. A love of nature. Following the seasons. Paying attention to the moon. Working with intuition. Finding meaning in ritual. Feeling connected to the world around me. The irony is that I probably have more in common with those labels than I once realised. I just don’t feel the need to call myself any of them, and that’s okay.
One of the biggest things I’ve learned is that I don’t need to fit neatly into a box. I don’t need to choose a label before I’m allowed to explore something, and I certainly don’t need to have everything figured out before I begin.
For me, spirituality is about paying attention. It’s noticing how I feel after a walk in the woods. It’s standing on a beach at sunset and feeling completely present. It’s looking up at the moon and feeling a sense of connection that I can’t quite explain. It’s creating space to reflect, to learn, and to stay curious.
That curiosity has slowly become part of my everyday life.
Most mornings begin the same way. Before I think about work, I make myself a ceremonial cacao with oat milk, put on some gentle music, set an intention for the day, and spend ten or twenty minutes simply sitting with it. Sometimes I journal, other mornings I just enjoy the quiet. It’s become a small ritual that helps me begin each day feeling grounded and present.
Each month, I make time for things that help me reconnect. I go to a sound bath where I can completely switch off, and I have a one-to-one Reiki session that gives me the space to pause, reflect, and check in with myself. Since completing my Reiki Level 1 training, I’ve loved continuing to practise and gently deepen my understanding, allowing it to become part of my life in a way that feels natural.
I’ve realised that spirituality isn’t something I switch on and off. It isn’t reserved for a particular day of the week or a special occasion. It’s become part of how I move through life.
It’s looking up at the moon before I close the curtains each night. It’s choosing a woodland walk because I know I’ll feel calmer afterwards. It’s reading books that make me think differently, setting intentions that help me focus on what matters, and making time to simply sit in silence before the busyness of the day begins.
None of those moments are particularly extraordinary on their own, but together they’ve changed me. They’ve helped me become more intentional, more present, and more appreciative of the beauty that’s already there if we’re willing to notice it.
Looking back, I don’t think spirituality suddenly appeared in my life. I think it had always been there, quietly weaving its way through the things I was naturally drawn to. The difference is that now I recognise it. I make space for it. I allow it to become part of my everyday life.
That’s why I created The Starry Dream.
It’s a place to share what I’m learning, reflect on the things that resonate with me, and document the moments that have shaped my own exploration. I don’t expect everyone to believe the same things I do, and I don’t think that’s the point. My hope is simply that something I share encourages you to pause, reflect, or follow a curiosity of your own.
If you’re curious, questioning, learning, or simply seeing where your own path leads, I’m so glad you’ve found your way here.
Liz 🤍