When I sat down to draft the initial pages of The Lunar Mirror, I was preoccupied with the subtle, weightless ways time leaves its mark on us. We often speak of time as a healer, but it behaves more like a tide—patient, unyielding, and entirely unconcerned with our readiness to change.
I wrote this book to explore the quiet ache of our repeated mistakes. There is a specific kind of exhaustion that comes from encountering the same life lesson under different guises, carrying the same burdens until we finally learn how to set them down. The excerpt above touches on that gradual shift within the soul: the moment when the impulse to fight, resist, and strive gives way to an overwhelming need for stillness.
In The Lunar Mirror, the ibis and the moon serve as symbols for that reflective space. The ibis stands in the waters, calm and deliberate, observing the world without rushing to alter its flow. The moon marks the passage of our internal cycles, reminding us that revelation requires stillness.
This work is an invitation to step back from the noise of constant persistence. It is a space to sit with your own reflection, acknowledge the repetitions that brought you here, and grant yourself permission to simply be still.
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