This morning, I got electrocuted by my own toaster.
A frozen slice of bread stuck halfway in — and so did I.
I pushed it down again, and the electricity didn’t jump — it held me.
I had to throw myself off, dislocating my shoulder, hurting my back, neck, and pride.
Now I’m stiff. I’m sore. I’m still.
But as I lay in bed, I hear the whisper beneath the shock:
Stop over-serving. Stop over-loving. Stop over-giving.
The universe didn’t nudge me this time — it screamed.
I’ve been pouring from a cracked cup for too long.
Maybe this is the reset — a forced surrender.
Yesterday, a black snake slithered through the garden — a baby cobra, maybe.
Today, lightning found me through a piece of toast.
The moon is wild, bright, electric — and she’s saying:
“Rest, woman. The world can wait.”
Welcome home to the tropics,
where the lessons bite, hum, and heal through the air. 🌕⚡🐍
If your own life’s been whispering — or shocking — you awake lately, come join us inside the Slow Secrets Tribe.
We’re learning to listen.
👉 slow-secrets-tribe.kit.com/starthere
