The Five D’s of Being Human

—a soul’s unfolding—

There are seasons within us.
Some arrive like morning light.
Others like thunderstorms.
But all of them are holy.
All of them make us.

This is what I know to be true—
We are not linear. We are layered.
And somewhere between fire and silence,
we become.

Let me tell you the way it has unfolded in me.

1. Dreams

We begin in light.
Not always seen—but deeply felt.
A flutter behind the eyelids.
A soft murmur in the womb of sleep.

Dreams are ancient.
Older than logic, louder than reason.
They are whispers from the future,
sent backward to remind us:
You came here for something.

And sometimes, you forget the dream.
But the dream never forgets you.

2. Desire

Then comes the hunger.
Not the shallow kind.
But the sacred kind.
The kind that rises from the bones and bellies and longing.

To touch. To taste. To belong.
To become.

Desire isn’t dirty.
It’s divine.
It’s the ache that says:
I’m not here to shrink. I’m here to expand.

And yes—desire makes us brave.
Even when our legs are shaking.

3. Despair

But not every becoming is beautiful.
Some are brutal.
Despair comes with no warning.
It just sits in your chest like smoke,
and you can’t breathe the same again.

It whispers of endings,
of failures,
of “maybe I’m not enough.”

But don’t be fooled—
Despair is a sculptor.
It’s not here to end you.
It’s here to deepen you.

Grief makes room.
And room is what transformation needs.

4. Death

Not just the final kind.
But the daily kind.

The little deaths:
Of identities you outgrew.
Of illusions you once called home.
Of dreams that no longer fit your spirit.

Death is not betrayal.
It’s just life rearranging itself.
It’s your soul saying,
Thank you, that was enough.

Every death is a door.
And yes, you’re allowed to weep as you walk through it.

5. Delirium

Oh, and then comes this strange, holy madness.
That blurry, breathless space
between knowing and not-knowing.

When your thoughts stop making sense,
but your soul starts making poetry.

Delirium is chaos—but it’s also birth.
It’s the fever of becoming.
The forgetting that leads to remembering.
The wild dance that breaks you open
so something more honest can rise.

✨ The Becoming

We are made of all five.
We carry them.
We cycle through them.
Sometimes all in one week.

To be human is not to have it all together.
It’s to carry dreams in one hand
and despair in the other—
and still rise.

So if you are floating between states,
If you are undone,
If you are in-between—

Let me say this gently:

You are not lost.
You are becoming.

This is what unfolding looks like.