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How Krista’s Support Helped Me Through Ceremony
In every ceremony, there’s someone who carries a quiet kind of strength — the kind that doesn’t speak through words but through presence. For me, that was Krista.
From the very beginning of the week, she felt like the heartbeat of the space — steady, nurturing, and full of grace. There was something motherly about her energy — the kind of care that makes you feel safe to let go, to cry, to laugh, or to simply be human again.
As a veteran, I’m used to environments where showing emotion is seen as weakness. But with Krista around, I didn’t feel judged for feeling. When the medicine got heavy, she was there with a hand on my shoulder, a gentle word, or just her quiet presence — reminding me that I wasn’t alone.
Her warmth filled the room in a way that made everyone feel held — not just physically, but spiritually. She had this rare gift of seeing people exactly where they were, without trying to fix or change them.
Throughout the week, Krista reminded me of compassion — the kind I’d forgotten to give myself. Her energy felt like home, like the embrace of something pure and loving that asked for nothing in return.
When I think back on my MexiSoul journey, I remember the moments when I was deep in reflection, unsure, or emotional — and it was always Krista’s quiet, motherly care that grounded me.
She didn’t just support the ceremony — she embodied the spirit of it.
I’ll always be grateful for the comfort, love, and presence she brought to my healing. She reminded me that strength isn’t always loud — sometimes it’s found in the softest, kindest hearts.
From the very beginning of the week, she felt like the heartbeat of the space — steady, nurturing, and full of grace. There was something motherly about her energy — the kind of care that makes you feel safe to let go, to cry, to laugh, or to simply be human again.
As a veteran, I’m used to environments where showing emotion is seen as weakness. But with Krista around, I didn’t feel judged for feeling. When the medicine got heavy, she was there with a hand on my shoulder, a gentle word, or just her quiet presence — reminding me that I wasn’t alone.
Her warmth filled the room in a way that made everyone feel held — not just physically, but spiritually. She had this rare gift of seeing people exactly where they were, without trying to fix or change them.
Throughout the week, Krista reminded me of compassion — the kind I’d forgotten to give myself. Her energy felt like home, like the embrace of something pure and loving that asked for nothing in return.
When I think back on my MexiSoul journey, I remember the moments when I was deep in reflection, unsure, or emotional — and it was always Krista’s quiet, motherly care that grounded me.
She didn’t just support the ceremony — she embodied the spirit of it.
I’ll always be grateful for the comfort, love, and presence she brought to my healing. She reminded me that strength isn’t always loud — sometimes it’s found in the softest, kindest hearts.
