Personal testimony · Spiritual reflection

Metanoia and sacred geometry: I lived it before I had words for it

In UNWITNESSED, I describe golden geometry, trembling and a shift in perception. A personal account of metanoia and its connection to everyday life.

The experience came first. The word came much later.

In my poetry collection UNWITNESSED, I wrote about golden geometry, symbols I had no language for, and trembling throughout my body. Later, I found a word that helped me name the shift in perception I was describing: metanoia.

Sometimes we try to understand an experience before we have words for it. Returning to it through writing can make room for a different kind of reflection.

What does metanoia mean?

Dictionary.com describes metanoia as a profound transformation, usually spiritual. In my account, it names a change in how I perceived and understood my life. It is not a medical term for my trembling or an explanation of its cause.

What interests me is what becomes visible after an experience we find deeply significant. Which story about ourselves begins to loosen? What can we finally put into words?

Sacred geometry as the language of my experience

In “Espejo,” I describe golden forms and symbols. Sacred geometry is the spiritual language I now use to approach that experience. The poem speaks of my field, my being, and an inner rewriting. Those words convey how it felt to me.

“Recalibration” describes my subjective sense of transformation. The poem does not establish a physical alteration or a change in a magnetic field. It holds a personal experience and the meaning I gave it.

Loss and the timing I remember

My story includes experiences I describe as supernatural when my mother died and also a month before my father died. That timing belongs to my recollection and to the questions I continue to explore. It is not a claim that I could predict a death.

Those experiences deserve their own careful telling. Here, I am following a thread from “Espejo”: the experience itself and the later work of understanding a change in perception.

What became visible in the mirror

In the poem, the wound of scarcity begins to have a name. The mirror becomes an image of recognizing patterns that had been difficult to see. This connects with my work on the feminine psyche and the stories we carry into ordinary life.

How do we receive? What do we feel responsible for holding together? Where do we stay after a place no longer fits? These questions need the detail of an individual life rather than a single explanation for every woman.

More than looking for all the answers in past lives, I return to this life: a boundary, a conversation, our relationship with work, love, money and creativity.

Living after an extraordinary experience

You can reflect on what changed without rushing to make major decisions or trying to reproduce someone else’s experience. Trembling alone does not identify a spiritual awakening; new, persistent or concerning tremors deserve medical evaluation.

For me, telling this story also means speaking about what followed: finding language and bringing that understanding into conversations with other women. The poem holds the intensity. Everyday life asks how we will integrate it.