Crossing Over
When everything turns over. From waiting to life. From darkness to clarity. From feeling to word. From emptiness to fullness.
To you, who are both the ending and the beginning
Mornings in our house begin with a choice. If Valters wakes first, there will be chicory or matcha — a gentle offering. Sometimes I linger in bed, knowing his tray of drinks will arrive. If I rise first, it is coffee that comes.
I mix beans from different roasts, grind them fresh, and bring the brew to its first bubble. Then I turn off the heat, cover the pot with a towel, and let it rest. When the grounds have settled, I pour the clear coffee into a separate vessel and blend it with butter and coconut oil.
You won’t find this drink in Georgian cafés. These subtleties aren’t understood there.
So we become the artisans ourselves.
But last night everything turned the other way. From the inside out, completely.
I was ready.
I had been ready since the end of summer, when we were in the northern mountains and I crawled up my hardest summit.
I was ready when, at the start of summer in the southern mountains, people began to call me not Ance but Jasmine—by the name born of my dreams and visions—in that delicate atmosphere I had discovered during three days of impenetrable darkness.
I was even ready a few days ago when my mother, speaking on the phone, mentioned she didn’t like this “detox” — referring to the blog title Detoxed Paragraph.
Last night something new was born with me, and this morning before lunch it was here. So. She.
Relaxation, a surge of strength, waves and splashes, a sudden shimmer. Clarity in the room, illumination. The same world, the same room, the same kitchen, but now everything is translucent, light, as if an inch above the ground.
The transition has happened.
A name has been found, and soon this same blog will take on a new sound — supportive, yet carrying the same clarifying frequency. New entrance doors will open in their time, and you will feel this process — this new in-breath and out-breath — with me.
I want to say that nothing of what has been will disappear. In the deep roots of Latvia, I remain Ance—my kin name.
Yet in the Caucasian morning mist, I walk barefoot toward new stories as Jasmine Monta—my name of life. The visible part.
I do not renounce the past; I thank it. I am moved by both the lived and the unlived episodes of life. Maybe it could have been different. Maybe not.
I remember and I know what matters most in life.
I have not forgotten anyone who helped me through this long, sometimes painful and very lonely time of waiting.
Linda came to visit, brewed coffee in the morning and left it by my door. Dace brought a stack of books. Baiba arrived with speck — cured pork fat. Zane made and gifted a white cotton cloak.
And you are here in this room too, without knowing what comes next.
These gestures are unforgettable. They are codes that build capacity, trust, and, ultimately, a sense of safety and acceptance. I am not alone. I am not the only one. And perhaps that is why stories are no longer piercable. Alive forever.
A new life is here. Her name is JASMININE, and I like being JASMININE. Thus the last curtain falls. Soon Detoxed Paragraph will be replaced by Her. JASMININE.
A brief voice offering in my root language, Latvian — recorded just hours before JASMININE began to pulse.
I have made a decision: I am not only roots. I am also flowers.
I am everything — the full skin, garment, and lining of the world and the cosmos. Depths and unfoldings, connections and the wounds of disconnection. All of it, still, is one point — one person, one humanity. The merging of the visible and the invisible. Contact.
Now is strength.
🌬️ The big off-screen story
A small practice to shed the last layers
Three breaths. Three words. One sentence.
Pause for a moment. Be quiet. Listen. Then begin...
🫁 First in-breath and out-breath
What holds me back? (What won’t let me go, won’t let me fully show up or surrender?)
One word: ___________________________
🫁 Second in-breath and out-breath
What calls me? (What speaks to me, invites me, pulls me toward?)
One word: ___________________________
🫁 Third in-breath and out-breath
What leads me? (What guides me, carries me forward?)
One word: ___________________________
🌱 Closing sentence
Make one sentence that begins:
“I no longer … ___________________________
and ends with …, because I am.”
Examples: I no longer wait for permission, because I am. I no longer fear the unknown, because I am.
Written in black on white,
Jasmine Monta is a writer, visual artist, and ritual designer. Her texts pulse with rhythm, clarity, and quiet defiance, inviting readers into poetic practice and off-screen presence.
I am glad that life is expanding. After the last post, funds appeared in the Earth fund. I put them to use and purchased the JASMININE domain. Seeds are taking root. One name turns toward the earth. Thank you for feeling and helping.