The Remembering.
Where the ordinary world and the Carnival meet. Stories of remembering.
I wander through my life with my eyes open.
I make coffee. I tend my jade plants. I sit in the front row at my daughter’s music school showcase. I go on journeys into the imaginal realms where my ancestors show up close enough to kiss my forehead. I grieve. I laugh. I watch my children become themselves. I notice the moment a room changes frequency before anyone says a word.
And sometimes — not always, but sometimes — something hits different.
A moment cracks open and I can see it. The small thing that is actually the big thing. The ordinary Tuesday that is secretly a transmission about the nature of everything. The backyard that turns out to be exactly where the Phoenix rises.
Those are the moments I write about.
Not to parade my life in front of you — my life is simultaneously much more and much less than anything I’ll ever publish here. But because I have always believed in the ancient art of storytelling as the most direct route between one human’s knowing and another’s awakening.
I write about my journeys because they are my way into the knowledge — where symbols and creativity and imagination reveal what the rational mind keeps missing. I write about grief and victory and making coffee because that is where the transmission actually lives. Not in the grand gesture. In the moment of recognition. The quiet *oh* that happens in your chest when something you’ve been carrying alone suddenly has a name.
That’s what The Midnight Carnival is.
The Midnight Carnival began as a book — A Tale of Remembering — written in the years after loss cracked me open past the point of ordinary language. The main character is Anessa. She is me. I am her. We are not separate. And this Substack is where she and I continue walking — through the ordinary Tuesday, the jade plants, the grief, the gold. The Carnival was never just a story. It's the world I actually live in. And now it's the world I write from.
A view from my lens — as someone who moves through the world in a state of conscious awareness, watching the patterns shift, feeling the larger story moving underneath the smaller one. Human Design. Akashic Records. Yoga Nidra. Soul Art. The imagination as a clairsentient tool. The awesomeness of being fully, consciously, inconveniently human.
I’m not here to teach you my life.
I’m here to hand you a mirror so you can start getting curious about your own.
Every story I tell is really an invitation — to look at the moments in *your* life that hit different. The knowing you’ve been carrying alone. The shift you felt before anyone named it. The gold footprints you haven’t noticed yet, already lit beneath your feet.
You get the transmission by reading.
You get curious about your own experiment by staying.
And when you’re ready to go further —
Soul Pulse sessions are where we meet what’s actually present in your life right now. Your Human Design as the map. Your Akashic Records as the window. Your nervous system, your symbols, your soul’s navigation system — all of it, held in a single 75 minute session designed to help you hear your own signal clearly.
This is soul archaeology for the threshold.
And the door is open. 🖤
The moments that hit different — that’s what lives here.
And I’m so glad you found it.
LOVE.
Jocelyn b.