Over a decade and a half ago, I was headed to the airport, riding in a car with someone I once called a friend. We were crossing the Dames Point Bridge in Jacksonville, Florida, a notable, high-clearance structure that stretched over the St. Johns River, towering 471 feet into the sky. One of those bridges where, once you’re on it, there’s no turning back. Only forward.
And in the middle of that ride, something shifted.
Because of the unstable nature of this person’s emotional and mental state, they began talking about driving us over the bridge. Not joking. Not metaphor. Very real. In that moment, I had to become the stable one. I had to talk them down—emotionally, spiritually, strategically—while sitting in the passenger seat of my own life, trying to keep us both from going over the edge.
After one year of living in Florida, I was moving back to my home in Maryland. But that moment never left me.
Because in real-time, I learned that misery doesn’t just love company; it recruits it.
If you surround yourself with unhealed darkness—whether you recognize it or not—you are placing yourself in harm’s way. Not just emotionally. Not just spiritually. But physically, too. People who do not honor their own lives cannot honor yours. They cannot SEE you. They cannot value you. They cannot prioritize you. And they certainly cannot love you, because they have not learned how to hold themselves with care.
The Spring Equinox arrived on March 20th. A cosmic reset. A portal to walk through. This energy burns away illusions. It sharpens your sight. It forces clarity where confusion tries to dwell.
And let me be clear—
Everybody cannot go with you into this new season.
Some people will reveal themselves through personality. Through inconsistency. Through chaos. Through their inability to regulate emotions, to ground, to be still. Believe what you see, when you see it. Not what you hope for. And then, there’s the part we don’t talk about enough: how it’s impossible to build, grow, or heal in spaces filled with unaddressed emotional chaos.
Unhealed energy transmutes. It becomes tension, confusion, fear, and harm. And over time, it will try to make a home inside of you.
So let me make it plain.
An older model gas stove has a pilot light. It sits quietly at the bottom—small, almost invisible—but essential. Its only job is to stay lit so everything else can function. It provides the source. The ignition. The heat that allows something to be created, baked, sustained, transformed. But when the pilot light goes out, there is no flame. There is no heat. No nourishment.
Nothing works. People are like that, too.
When their internal flame is unstable—flickering, neglected, or completely extinguished—you feel it. Maybe not immediately, but sometimes it creeps in slowly: inconsistency, emotional volatility, unpredictable behavior, a heaviness that lies on your chest.
And then one day, it clicks—
you’ve been standing in someone else’s darkness, waiting for warmth that no longer exists. When a person’s pilot goes out, it doesn’t just affect them. It alters the entire environment. Energy transfers and darkness spreads. And if you’re not grounded in your own light, you will begin to dim—trying to understand it, fix it, or survive it.
Spiritually, this is resurrection season. Biblically, this is when Jesus rose. Astrologically, Aries steps in with fire, force, and initiation.
Aries doesn’t start fires—we finish them. We burn through what no longer serves. We clear. We cut. We move. Energy speaks. It is loud. So if someone is treating you poorly, understand that they mistook your good intentions for weakness.
Correct them.
Protect your light. Not everyone is safe to sit beside you on the bridge. Not everyone is meant to travel with you to your next destination. Some people are operating without a pilot, and you cannot risk your life trying to relight a flame they refuse to tend.
Because your light? Is not meant to be sacrificed for someone else’s darkness. It’s meant to guide you out of it. You are divinely guided.
Put your crown on. How does it feel? Feel the weight of it. The responsibility of it. The authority of it. Your presence matters. This is not the season for cowardice. This is the season for boldness. This is the season to keep your pilot light on. Let it burn.
A new cosmic year.
A new version of you.
Don’t look back. You’re not going that way!
Tuesday Morning Love, healing the heart one word at a time
