For the longest time, I thought my spiritual path had to look a certain way. I thought I needed to pick a box, choose a label, find the "right" answer, and somehow magically arrive at enlightenment wearing sensible shoes and carrying a perfectly organized spiritual journal.
What I am learning instead is that spirituality isn't a destination. It isn't a title. It isn't something you unlock once you've read enough books or attended enough classes. It is a practice. It is something you return to, over and over again, every single day.
And perhaps most importantly, it is deeply personal.
Attending Holy Fire this year has given me something I didn't realize I had been missing, permission. Permission to stop trying to force my spirituality to look like everyone else's and permission to start asking myself what feels sacred to me.
As a person whose life revolves around service, power exchange, Leather values, and devotion, I've spent years learning how to serve others. I've studied protocol, ritual, tradition, and relationships. I've poured myself into becoming better at service because service has always felt like home to me.
But somewhere along the way, I realized I hadn't been asking one very important question: Who am I serving spiritually? More than that—how do I serve spiritually?
I've come to realize that my spirituality cannot be separated from my service. They are intertwined. Service is not simply something that I do; it is one of the primary ways I experience devotion, connection, and meaning in my life.
Service changes people. It has certainly changed me.
My service isn't limited to polishing boots, making tea, organizing schedules, or performing rituals within my relationships. Service can also look like being present. It can look like listening. It can look like showing up consistently. It can look like doing difficult inner work when no one else is watching.
Sometimes service is making conscious choices about what I allow to feed my mind, body, and spirit. Sometimes it is choosing growth over comfort. Sometimes it is sitting with uncomfortable truths and allowing them to transform me.
And sometimes? Service is realizing that I cannot ride two horses with one ass.
I've spent a lot of time trying to pursue ten different spiritual practices at once because they all sounded fascinating. I wanted all of the books, all of the traditions, all of the shiny things. But I'm learning that depth often requires choosing where to plant your roots before you can grow branches.
You don't become a mighty oak overnight. You don't water a tree once and complain that it hasn't grown by breakfast. Spiritual practice requires consistency. Tiny acts repeated over time eventually become something beautiful and deeply rooted. I'm learning to start small.
Thirty days of one practice. One daily devotional. One conscious choice. One sacred ritual. Then another. And another. I've stopped trying to become the most spiritually evolved version of myself by next Tuesday.
What Holy Fire reminded me is that spirituality isn't the cool kids' club. It isn't about being the most educated person in the room or collecting traditions like Pokémon cards. It is about awareness, intention, and practice.
Liberation begins with awareness. Awareness of who I am. Awareness of where I am falling short. Awareness of where joy is calling me. Awareness of what is sacred in my life and relationships.
Most importantly, I've begun asking myself a question that I hope to continue asking for years to come: "Where is joy calling me?"
For someone whose primary love is service, I often ask where I am needed. Now I am learning to ask where I am being called, not by obligation or expectation, but by joy, devotion, and purpose.
I am discovering that my spiritual path is allowed to be uniquely mine. It can be devotional. It can be disciplined. It can be rooted in service. It can be playful. It can be messy. It can evolve. And no, I don't need to have all of the answers right now. So this is me giving myself permission to begin. Not perfectly. Not all at once. Just intentionally.
I'm building spiritual disciplines that nourish my soul instead of simply filling my calendar. I'm learning to cultivate presence. I'm choosing practices that I can actually sustain. I'm finding the sacred in the ordinary moments of service.
Most importantly, I'm learning that becoming who I am meant to be spiritually isn't a single grand gesture. It is a thousand small acts of devotion repeated over time. And if I'm doing this right, the reward for doing the work well is simply more meaningful work to do tomorrow.
Honestly? I wouldn't have it any other way. Welcome to my next chapter, a path of service, devotion, spirituality, and intentional growth. I'm excited to see where it leads.