Where the Bones Learned to Hollow

Notes from the Hollow Bone, Entry One

The wind is howling—through the air, through the window, through the house. It stirs something in me: moods of dim candlelight, a dark room, flickering light, and thoughts swirling in rhythm with the gusts.

I’m coming to understand the term hollow bones—not just intellectually, but in my body, in my breath. I’m beginning to feel the difference between becoming powerful and becoming full of power. There’s something deeply different in being unbothered, unattached, yet fully present. It’s not numbness. It’s aliveness without control.

This experience is hard to describe because it moves across a spectrum of emotions—grief, awe, discomfort, surrender. And every time I try to hold one, it turns and reveals a lesson. Each emotion unwraps another unveiling. Another doorway to awareness. It is the oddest, most beautiful process I’ve ever been allowed to live.

I’ve been trying to find the words to express this—because I know I’m not alone in it. And at the same time, I know this isn’t for everyone. That’s okay. I’m no longer asking for understanding. I’m not seeking permission.

I am releasing the roadmap. In fact, no—I’m burning it. And while I’m at it? I’ve kicked the conductor off the train. I’m not driving this anymore. I’m not pretending to know where I’m going. I am learning to walk forward with no script, no destination, no performance. Just presence.

And for someone who has lived her life fully immersed in the Type A, workaholic, Virgo perfectionist hustle—this unraveling is both terrifying and holy. Things are dissolving. Constructs. Roles. Illusions I clung to like armor. Some are melting slow. Others fall off in sharp, clean breaks.

I’ve had moments of clarity, sure. But not the kind that make you touch the sky. These are deeper. These are the kind that make you touch the ground—and then what lives beneath it. The kind that root you, but not to anything visible. Not to goals, or checklists, or even dreams. These roots are different. Inner-earth. Universe-connected. The kind that don’t anchor you in place, but anchor you in truth.

And I don’t fully know what this truth is yet.
But I do know: I’m learning to be a hollow bone.

That’s where I am today.

I’ll leave this here, like a stone on the path.

With Grace & Ink,
~ Mai