LexTalk

Last night, the moon hung low like a silver secret in the sky, and the house was still except for the soft hum of energy I’ve come to recognize—the kind that stirs when something unseen wants to speak. It had been a few days since I touched my angel dreams oracle deck, but something called to me. You know that quiet pull in your chest that feels like memory, magic, and mystery all at once? That.

I lit a candle, shuffled the cards, and pulled the 13th one in. A sacred number. A number of change, of intuition, of things shifting beneath the surface.

Water.

The card looked soft but powerful—rippling blues and swirling emotion. I didn’t feel emotional at the time, not outwardly. But the moment I held that card, something within me sighed, as if I’d been holding in breath for days. Water asked me to surrender, to let my emotions move rather than dam them up. It reminded me that feeling tired isn’t weakness—especially when you’re someone who absorbs energy like a sponge in moonlight. I’ve been holding space for others, navigating inner storms while smiling at the surface. Water saw me. She whispered, “Release, child. Let yourself flow again.”

Curious, I pulled another card for clarity.

Summer.

I smiled, warmth blooming in my chest. Summer is such a sacred season for me—not just because of the sunshine, but because of the memories woven into those golden days.

My mom was born in September, right as summer begins to soften into fall. She passed away in September, too—on the 19th in 2020. The 14th of that same month, I brought my sweet cat Juggy into my life. And just one year later, on September 22nd, I began talking to the man who would become my husband. We’re planning our honeymoon now, likely in September—yet another chapter written in a month full of endings and beginnings.

Summer doesn’t just mean sun. It means soul growth. It means the warmth that follows the ache. It’s laughter after tears, barefoot joy, and the sacred cycle of blooming again.

With tears pricking my eyes and heart open wide, I asked the cards one final question: What energy is trying to reach me?

The Sun.

Tears fell freely this time. That card is pure love. Joy. Healing. My mom’s light. I felt her immediately. Like a warm hand on my shoulder. Like the glow in a room that lingers even after the light has gone out.

She was saying, “I see you, sweetheart. I’m still with you. Let yourself be happy—you’ve earned it. I’ve watched you carry your pain and still find ways to love. Now it’s your turn to feel the warmth.”

Three cards. Three whispers from beyond.

Water—feel it.

Summer—live it.

The Sun—receive it.

A Little Ritual for the Heart

If you feel the tug to connect to your own spirit guides, loved ones, or simply your deeper self, try this simple ritual under the evening sky:

You’ll need:

• A small bowl of water
• A candle (white, yellow, or blue is lovely)
• A photo or item that reminds you of someone you miss or a version of yourself you’re healing

The Ritual:

1. Light your candle and take a deep breath.

2. Place your hands near the bowl of water and say:

“I welcome in healing. I welcome in truth. I let my emotions flow freely. I do not fear them—they are sacred.”

3. Hold your photo or item and speak from the heart. It doesn’t have to be fancy. Just talk. Whisper. Cry if you need. Let whatever needs to rise, rise.

4. When you’re ready, blow out the candle and thank your spirit team, your body, and yourself.

5. Pour the water outside (or in a plant) as a way of releasing and returning your feelings to the earth.

This night reminded me that signs come when we’re still. That love doesn’t end—it just changes shape. And that somewhere, just beyond the veil, there’s a light still shining for me. For you. For all of us who keep walking, even when our hearts are heavy.

Until next time, keep listening to the whispers.

Lex