The Aphrodite Collective

This morning didn’t begin with makeup brushes or moon water.
It began with chaos.
With feathers.
With a cat, a cry, and a decision.

For the past day, I’d been watching a mama bird feed her tiny, newborn babies nestled in a fragile cradle just outside my window.
Their chirps were barely whispers — but their presence… oh, it was sacred. A reminder that life chooses to keep blooming, even in small and hidden places.

And then, like some twisted fairytale plot twist, my cat — my little chaos goblin — tried to destroy it all.
The nest was torn. The babies tumbled. My heart shattered.

But something ancient rose up in me.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Instinct. Protection. Divine feminine fire.

With shaking hands and a heart pounding louder than any drum, I pieced the nest back together, gently returned each baby to safety, and whispered a blessing into the morning air — one I now know was not just for them, but for me, too.

I was told as a child that once a human touches a baby bird, the mother never comes back.
But that’s not true.
And maybe… neither is the story we’ve been told about ourselves. That if we’ve been touched by trauma, we are no longer worthy of being cared for.
That we can’t be saved.
That we can’t still fly.

Today, I know better.
And so do those birds.

I may not have wings.
But I am a nest guardian.
A protector of tenderness.
A soft place to land.

So to the broken, the gentle, the ones who still believe in love even after destruction —
This one’s for you.
And for every fragile little heart that dared to be born in a wild world.

🌿🕊️ So mote it be.