Permission Slips, Boundaries & Moonfeather’s Emergency Exit from the Victimhood Hotel

(Now with Complimentary Drama Flakes!)

Alright, settle in. Grab your tea, smudge your aura, and clutch your crystals—this one's a doozy.

So there I was, minding my own shamanic business—probably rearranging feathers or pretending not to hear spirit guides arguing over who gets to use the rainstick—when in limps my student.

My student—we’ll call him Moonfeather, because “Clueless McTraumaLoop” felt rude—was in the middle of his weekly existential meltdown. Again.

Anyway, Moonfeather arrives looking like someone emotionally kicked his third eye. Again. You know the type—like a sage-scented sponge soaking up everybody else’s nonsense and calling it compassion.

He collapses on the sacred recliner (which, for the record, has seen more trauma dumps than a therapy dog at a music festival) and says:

“I just wish people would stop walking all over me…”

And I, being the gentle and supportive shamanic mentor I am, replied:

“And I wish I could eat beans without the flatulence but here we are, Moonfeather.”

Welcome to Boundary Bootcamp: No Yoga Pants Required

Let’s clear this up real quick.

Boundaries are not mean.

Boundaries are not spiritual betrayal.

Boundaries are not “low vibe.”

They’re not even complicated.

They’re just you saying:

“This is my field. Kindly f* off unless you’re bringing snacks, respect, or emotional accountability.”**

But Moonfeather? He was still clutching his imaginary Cosmic Permission Slip like it was the last churro at a full moon drum circle.

Permission Slips: AKA The Universe Is NOT Your Helicopter Parent

Let’s talk about these invisible Permission Slips so many of you wait for before doing the thing you know you need to do.

You want to leave the toxic friendship? Set a boundary? Say “no” without attaching a 32-slide PowerPoint?

And yet you wait… For Spirit to send you a flaming eagle carrying a scroll that says,

“You’re allowed, sweet potato. Go forth and honour thy damn self.”

Newsflash: The eagle’s on strike, and Spirit’s response time is currently slower than a koala on ketamine during a heatwave.

Moonfeather’s Philosophy on Boundaries (aka: Please Hurt Me Gently)

Moonfeather’s idea of boundaries? A polite whimper followed by a confused silence and then offering the other person snacks.

“I just don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings,” he sniffled.

“But you’re fine letting them play hacky sack with your nervous system?” I asked.

“Well… yeah, because I’m the healer in the family.”

“No, mate. You’re less a healer and more a human sponge absorbing their dysfunction—with zero pay and a dodgy benefits package.”

Here Comes Pieter, Floating in on a Cloud of Sarcasm and Incense

Pieter chose this moment to appear, looking like a metaphysical librarian crossed with a drag queen exorcist. He adjusted his robes and said:

“Moonfeather. If you bend any further to please people, we’re going to need to reclassify your spine as a noodle.”

Moonfeather blinked. “That’s rude.”

“So is asking someone to dim their light so others won’t feel inadequate. But here we are.”

Boundaries Aren’t Rude. Being a Spineless Empath Zombie Is.

Let’s get spiritual and real for a sec:

You are not obligated to keep toxic people warm with your emotional body heat.

You are not required to babysit your cousin’s healing because she once gave you a ride to Target in 2009.

And you are definitely not here to be the customer service desk for people who refuse to grow.

You are not the “returns & exchanges” department for bad behaviour.

If someone gets mad at your boundary, it just means the free ride ended and they’re pouting in the spiritual car park.

Moonfeather’s Big Breakthrough (and Slight Identity Crisis)

One week later I get a text message:

“I told my boss I couldn’t stay late unless I’m paid. My hands were shaking, I think I blacked out, but I feel amazing.”

I replied,

“That, my Padawan, is what power tastes like. You’re high on sovereignty. Don’t worry, the side effects include self-respect, minor rage, and random bursts of ‘I deserve better.’. Free of Charge.”

Eagle Eye’s Closing Mic Drop

Eagle Eye, pipe in hand and that look that says “I’ve raised 42 apprentices and they all cried at least once,” grunted:

“A boundary is a ceremonial circle. It ain’t meant to trap others—it’s to keep your damn spirit safe while you remember who you are.”

He puffed smoke, then added:

“Anyone who tries to step through it without permission should be spiritually tased. Or politely shown the door with a firm 'bless and release'."

Your Permission Slip Has Arrived. It Says: ‘NO.’

If you’re still waiting for someone to tell you it’s okay to rest, say no, change your mind, walk away, block the idiot, or stop being the unpaid therapist of your entire ancestral line?

THIS. IS. IT.

Signed, sealed, delivered by a sarcastic crow, a wise elder, and a multidimensional being with sass and sparkle.

Need help yanking your sovereignty back from the jaws of martyrdom and ghosting your inner doormat?

Book a shamanic consultation with yours truly and let’s sort it out:

www.living5d3d.com

Come with your patterns. Leave with your power.

And possibly a few feathers.