What I Mean When I Say "Temple"

This is not a religion.

There are no dogmas here. No deity to obey. No hierarchy to ascend.

There are no right words to say, no punishments to fear, no gatekeepers holding keys.

and yet I still say temple.

I say temple not to align with institution, but to return to intimacy.

To name the space, physical or unseen, where breath becomes sacred again, and presence is enough.

To me, a temple is not a building. It is a moment. A breath. A flame tended with intention. A space made sacred because you showed up fully.

This temple isn't built on belief. It's built on being. On listening. On remembering what it means to be here; in your body, in your breath, in this exact moment. And meeting that moment with reverence.

I use the word temple because I want to speak of the sacred without making it exclusive. To reclaim what is holy, not through doctrine, but through direct experience. the kind that hums through your skin when the rattle shakes, when the cacao warms your chest, when the breath quiets and you feel your own presence like a prayer.

the serpent does not ask you to believe.

the seed does not ask you to follow.

they ask only that you listen.

that you feel

that you let the silence break something open inside you.

Wheather you are spiritual, skeptical, scarred, or simply curious

you are welcome here. because this is not a temple built of rules. it is a temple of remembrance. a temple of breath. of body. of return.

when i say temple, I mean:

This moment matters.

This space is alive.

This ritual is yours.

This breath is sacred.

No belief required.

just presence.

Shared from the keeper's Journal

In service to breath, body, and belonging.