VIA REUNIDA

Autor: Sina Maria Schultz

  • Total solar eclipse with glowing corona over dark mountains at dusk

    Weekly Sky Reflection August 3–9, 2026

    Weekly Sky Reflection

    August 3–9, 2026

    Preparing the Ground for What’s Ready to Emerge

    The Sky at a Glance

    This week’s reflection is shaped by Chiron turning retrograde in supportive relationship with the lunar nodes, Jupiter conjunct Hygeia, Eris engaging Mars, Vesta and Mercury, Venus returning to Libra before trining Sedna while connecting with Lilith and Hecate, the Sun forming harmonious aspects with Saturn before meeting Isis and opposing Sophia, and Mercury entering Leo before squaring Chiron. Together, these archetypal conversations create a threshold week as we move toward the New Moon Solar Eclipse on August 12.

    This Week’s Invitation

    There are moments in the year when life seems to gather itself. Not to rush us, but to concentrate our attention.

    Eclipse season is one of those moments.

    The weeks surrounding an eclipse often feel different—not because fate suddenly takes over, but because what has been quietly unfolding beneath the surface begins asking for our conscious participation. Patterns become easier to recognize. Old identities become more difficult to inhabit. Decisions carry a little more weight because they ask us to choose not only what we want, but who we are becoming.

    If July felt like a return to ground zero, this week asks a different question:

    Now that the dust has settled, what path still feels true?

    The New Moon Solar Eclipse on August 12 is often described as a beginning. Yet meaningful beginnings rarely arrive without first asking something of us.

    This week feels less like planting seeds and more like preparing the soil.

    Before something new can take root, something old may need to loosen its grip.

    Healing Is Not the Same as Erasing

    On Monday, Chiron begins its retrograde journey.

    Chiron is often called the Wounded Healer, but perhaps its deeper invitation is not to heal away our wounds. Rather, it asks whether we are willing to meet them differently.

    Some wounds become the places where wisdom ripens.

    Not because suffering is inherently meaningful, but because what we choose to cultivate in response to suffering can become medicine.

    As Chiron turns inward while remaining in supportive relationship with the lunar nodes, healing becomes inseparable from direction. The invitation isn’t simply to revisit old pain, but to notice how our deepest experiences have shaped the gifts we carry and the path we are here to walk.

    Alongside this, Jupiter meets Hygeia, amplifying an archetype of restoration, vitality and energetic renewal.

    Where Chiron reminds us that healing can ask for courage, Hygeia reminds us that healing can also arrive through grace.

    Sometimes transformation asks us to descend.

    Sometimes it asks us to receive.

    When Truth Restores Life Force

    If one voice speaks loudly this week, it is Eris. Eris has a way of unsettling what has become too comfortable. Not to create conflict for its own sake, but to expose what can no longer remain hidden.

    As she engages Mars, Mercury and Vesta throughout the week, honesty becomes a recurring theme.

    Perhaps not the honesty that proves a point. But the honesty that restores integrity. The honesty that quietly says,

    «I can no longer abandon myself to preserve an old story.»

    Vesta deepens this invitation. Often associated with the sacred flame, she asks us to notice where our devotion truly lives. Because wherever we place our attention… our life force follows.

    This week may invite us to ask whether our energy is nourishing what feels deeply alive—or merely sustaining what has become familiar.

    Standing at the Threshold

    There is another presence woven through this week: Hecate. The guardian of thresholds. The keeper of crossroads.

    She reminds us that transformation is rarely about being pushed onto a new path. More often, it is about recognizing that we have quietly arrived at a place where the old path no longer belongs to us. The coming eclipses may bring visible change. This week invites an invisible one.

    A shift in orientation. A willingness to let our soul—not our habits—become the place from which we choose.

    Grounding What Wants to Become Real

    As the week unfolds, the atmosphere gradually shifts. Venus returns to Libra, her home sign, inviting greater balance, beauty and reciprocity into our relationships.

    The Sun’s harmonious connection with Saturn offers something equally valuable: form.

    Vision without embodiment remains imagination.

    Saturn gently reminds us that what we long for is shaped not only by inspiration, but by the quiet consistency of our choices.

    Toward the end of the week, the symbolism of Isis, Sophia, Sedna, Lilith and Hecate draws our attention toward deeper currents of feminine wisdom.

    Not as something separate from everyday life, but as an invitation to remember ways of knowing that are receptive, intuitive and relational. In a world that often rewards certainty, these archetypes whisper another possibility:

    That wisdom may emerge not through controlling life, but through entering into deeper relationship with it.

    Finding a Voice for What Has Changed

    On Sunday, Mercury enters Leo before forming a challenging aspect with Chiron.

    After a week of listening inward, there may be something ready to be spoken. Not because every insight needs to be shared but because some truths become more real when they are given language. I guess the invitation isn’t simply to speak more. Perhaps it is to let our words become an expression of who we are becoming, rather than a defence of who we have been.

    Reflection Questions

    • What part of my life feels complete, even if I haven’t fully acknowledged it yet?
    • Where am I being invited to meet an old wound with greater acceptance rather than resistance?
    • What truth quietly restores my life force when I allow myself to listen?

    A Contemplative Closing

    Perhaps eclipse season is not asking us to become someone else. Maybe it is asking us to stop carrying what no longer belongs to the person we already are.

    There is a difference between changing direction and coming home.

    This week feels less like a dramatic turning point and more like the quiet moment before one—the place where we release what has completed its work, not because it was wrong, but because it has brought us as far as it could.

    May we meet this threshold with honesty rather than certainty, with curiosity rather than control, and with the humility to trust that the path ahead is revealed one truthful step at a time.

    Intentional Solidarity

    Continues Liberation

  • Human Supremacy Begins Long Before Domination

    Human Supremacy Begins Long Before Domination

    When we hear the word supremacy, we often think of its most visible expressions: racism, sexism, colonialism, or ideological extremism. We recognize the violence of believing that one group of people is inherently more valuable than another. But lately, I have been wondering whether supremacy begins much earlier. Long before domination. Long before exploitation. Long before violence. Perhaps supremacy begins in the way we learn to see.

    The First Story

    One of the deepest stories shaping Western culture is the idea that humans stand above the rest of life. We are the intelligent species. The rational species. The chosen species. The species that rules. Whether expressed through religion, science, economics, or technology, the underlying assumption often remains remarkably similar: humans exist at the center, while everything else exists around us.

    Nature becomes a backdrop. Animals become resources. Forests become timber. Rivers become water management. The Earth becomes property. Life becomes useful.

    Perhaps this is the oldest supremacy of all. Not because it is historically the first but because it quietly establishes the logic from which many other supremacies grow. Once we accept that some forms of life matter more than others, hierarchy has already entered our imagination. From there, ranking humans becomes much easier. And history tells this story repeatedly. People described as «closer to nature» become easier to dominate. Women become irrational because of their connection to the body. Indigenous peoples become primitive. Rural communities become uncivilized. Animals become things.

    Different stories. The same movement – The denial of relationship.

    Before We Dominate, We Interpret

    The more I sit with this, the more I wonder whether supremacy is less about power than perception. Because domination rarely begins with violence. It begins with interpretation.

    We tell ourselves stories about what another being is. A forest becomes lumber. A wolf becomes a threat. A pig becomes food. A refugee becomes a problem, a child becomes something to shape. A dog becomes an animal that needs hierarchy.

    Often, we are so convinced by our interpretations that we stop noticing they are interpretations at all.

    They become reality.

    Perhaps one of the deepest inheritances of colonial culture is not simply domination.

    It is the certainty that we already know what another being is.

    The Humility of Not Knowing

    This realization has made me increasingly cautious with language. Take the word hierarchy. Sometimes hierarchy genuinely exists. Nature is astonishingly diverse. Some species organize through dominance, others through cooperation, fluid leadership, kinship, distributed intelligence, or forms of relating we barely understand. The point is not to deny hierarchy. The point is to become aware of how quickly we project it. For decades, even the science of wolves was shaped by assumptions about dominance and «alpha» leadership, interpretations that were later reconsidered as researchers observed wolves in their natural family groups rather than in captivity. That does not necessarily mean every earlier observation was wrong. It reminds us that observers also bring culture into their observations.

    Perhaps the first act of anti-supremacy is not changing the world. Perhaps it is becoming suspicious of our certainty. Learning to ask:

    What if I don’t yet know who—or what—I am meeting?

    Dominion or Responsibility?

    This same question has accompanied me back to one of the foundational stories of Western civilization. The biblical idea of dominion.

    For centuries, dominion has often been interpreted as humanity’s right to rule over creation. Yet there are compelling theological voices that suggest something quite different.

    Andrew Linzey, in Animal Theology, argues that dominion is fundamentally about responsibility rather than domination. The Concise Dictionary of Classical Hebrew points toward meanings such as governing through care, stewardship, and responsibility for the flourishing of others. Similar ideas appear in the Qur’an, where the human being is described as khalifa—a guardian or steward of the Earth. If these interpretations are closer to the original intention, then one small shift in translation may have carried enormous cultural consequences.

    From servant to master.

    From guardian to owner.

    From relationship to control.

    Whether or not this is the definitive reading matters less to me than the invitation it offers. What if our deepest task was never to stand above life, but to care for it?

    A Different Way of Knowing

    Animism is often understood as believing that everything has a spirit. For me, it has become something much simpler. And much more demanding.

    It is the willingness to let another being reveal itself before deciding what it is.

    To watch.

    To listen.

    To remain teachable.

    Not only with animals.

    With people.

    With ancestors.

    With rivers.

    With grief.

    With ourselves.

    Animism asks something that supremacy cannot. It asks us to be changed by the encounter.

    The Supremacy That Lives Within

    This is also why I no longer believe that healing automatically dissolves supremacy. Someone can feel deeply connected to their ancestors and still unconsciously reproduce domination. Someone can have profound spiritual experiences and still occupy the subtle position of knowing better. I notice it in myself. The impulse to explain. The desire to teach. The quiet satisfaction of being the one who understands. Feeling slightly elevated when someone else appears uncertain. Mistaking emotional distance for grounded presence and healthy boundaries. None of these make me a bad person. They make me human. And they remind me how deeply colonial culture has shaped my nervous system.

    Supremacy is not only political. It is psychological. It is embodied. It is relational.

    The Grief of Letting Go

    During a session, a client once looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, «Men just want to be seen for what they do.» His words have stayed with me. Because beneath supremacy there is often grief. If our worth has been organized around achievement, intelligence, gender, status, or superiority, then releasing those identities can feel like disappearing. Anti-supremacy work therefore asks much more than exposing harmful structures. It asks whether we can create enough belonging that people no longer need superiority to feel significant.

    Perhaps this is why lineage work feels so important to me.

    Not because it automatically dissolves ego—it doesn’t—but because it offers belonging that reaches deeper than identity. It reminds us that we are held by something larger than the stories our culture has taught us about who we must become.

    The Opposite of Supremacy

    For a long time I thought the opposite of supremacy was equality. Now I’m no longer sure. Equality matters profoundly. But it still lives within comparison. Perhaps the opposite of supremacy is relationship. Relationship asks different questions. Not: Who is above whom? Nor even: Are we equal?

    But simply:

    Who are you?

    And…

    How do we belong to one another?

    These questions cannot be answered from a distance. They require attention. Presence. Listening.

    They require us to allow another being to remain, at least partly, a mystery.

    Learning to See Again

    Perhaps this is the real work. Not becoming perfect. Not escaping our conditioning. But learning to notice the moment we stop listening. The moment we become certain. The moment another being disappears behind our ideas about them. Because every act of supremacy begins there. In the quiet conviction that we already know.

    Maybe the deepest practice of anti-supremacy is therefore astonishingly simple.

    To become a student again. To let the world surprise us. To meet life with enough humility that forests are no longer timber, animals are no longer objects, people are no longer categories, and even our own identities become softer around the edges.

    Perhaps healing is not ultimately about becoming better people.

    Perhaps it is about recovering our capacity for relationship.

    And perhaps relationship begins every time we have the courage to ask, with genuine wonder:

    Who are you?

    Intentional Solidarity

    Continues Liberation

  • The Horse in Andalusia: Between Heritage and Relationship

    To understand Andalusia is, in many ways, to understand its relationship with the horse. Across the region, horses appear in festivals, religious pilgrimages, classical riding schools, cattle work, and family traditions. They are celebrated in paintings, music, literature, and public spectacle, often presented as symbols of beauty, nobility, and regional identity. Yet behind these familiar images lies a far more complex story—one that reveals how humans and horses have shaped one another over centuries.

    The history of the Andalusian horse is frequently told as a story of refinement. Roman writers praised the horses of Hispania for their endurance and agility, while later Arab and Berber influences transformed breeding practices on the Iberian Peninsula. During the reign of the Catholic Monarchs, horse breeding became increasingly organised, producing animals that served military ambitions, royal prestige, and diplomatic exchange. The development of the Pura Raza Española (PRE) is therefore inseparable from the political history of Spain itself.

    At the same time, this history invites us to ask whose story is being told. Narratives of selective breeding often celebrate purity, perfection, and human achievement. They rarely acknowledge that these ideals emerged through the systematic shaping of another living being according to human desires. Horses became symbols of power not through their own choosing but through relationships structured by ownership, utility, and representation. To recognise this does not diminish the extraordinary cultural significance of the Andalusian horse; rather, it allows us to see that admiration and control have often existed side by side.

    This tension continues to characterise Andalusian equestrian culture today. Traditional riding disciplines such as Doma Vaquera emerged from the practical work of cattle herders, requiring exceptional trust, responsiveness, and mutual understanding between horse and rider. Classical dressage, preserved by institutions such as the Royal Andalusian School of Equestrian Art in Jerez de la Frontera, presents horsemanship as a refined artistic practice in which precision and elegance become forms of cultural expression. These traditions preserve invaluable knowledge about movement, balance, and communication, while also reflecting historical ideas about discipline, hierarchy, and mastery.

    Beyond the riding arena, horses remain deeply woven into Andalusian social life. During the Romería del Rocío, pilgrims travel on horseback or in horse-drawn carriages, transforming the journey itself into a communal act of devotion. At the Feria de Abril in Seville and the Feria del Caballo in Jerez, horses move through streets filled with music, dance, and celebration, embodying a sense of continuity between past and present. Here, horses are not simply decorative elements; they are active participants in rituals through which communities remember who they are.

    Yet these celebrations also reveal an enduring paradox. Horses are honoured, admired, and cared for with remarkable dedication, while simultaneously being expected to perform, represent, and fulfil human expectations. Their presence is often celebrated as cultural heritage, even as their own experiences remain largely absent from the narratives surrounding them. This paradox is not unique to Andalusia. It reflects a broader human tendency to value animals for what they symbolise rather than for who they are.

    For this reason, the horse occupies a particularly revealing place within Andalusian culture. It stands at the intersection of history, politics, economy, aesthetics, spirituality, and everyday life. Studying the horse therefore becomes a way of studying human society itself: our ideas of beauty, our relationships with power, our capacity for cooperation, and the ways in which cultural traditions are continually created and reinterpreted.

    One concept illustrates this especially well: versammlung, or collection. Within the classical tradition, collection is often described in technical terms as the horse’s ability to carry itself in balance. Yet at its deepest level, it is less a mechanical posture than a quality of relationship. Genuine collection cannot be produced through force alone. It emerges from attentiveness, patience, bodily awareness, and reciprocal trust. In this sense, the ideal of collection offers an alternative to understandings of horsemanship based solely on control. It suggests that true mastery lies not in domination but in the capacity to listen, respond, and move together.

    Seen from this perspective, the horse is more than a cultural emblem or a product of successful breeding. It is a living presence whose history has unfolded alongside our own. The traditions of Andalusia demonstrate the remarkable depth of human–horse relationships, but they also invite critical reflection on how those relationships have been shaped by unequal structures of power. Between reverence and exploitation, partnership and possession, lies the ongoing challenge of imagining ways of being with horses that honour not only their cultural significance but also their existence as sentient beings with lives of their own.

    Ultimately, the story of the horse in Andalusia is not simply about a celebrated breed or a regional tradition. It is about the kinds of relationships humans choose to cultivate with the more-than-human world. By looking closely at these relationships, we begin to understand that culture is never created by humans alone. It emerges through countless encounters between species, landscapes, histories, and shared lives. The horse has helped shape Andalusia for centuries; perhaps the deeper question is how Andalusia—and we ourselves—have been shaped by the horse.

    Intentional Solidarity

    Continues Liberation

  • The Soul of My Work

    The Soul of My Work

    The thread that connects everything

    At first glance, my work appears to live in many different worlds.

    Sociology.
    Spirituality.
    Social justice.
    Systemic and generational healing.
    Astrology.
    Animism.
    Nature.
    Horses.
    Trauma.
    Belonging.
    Ancestors.

    Yet none of these are the center.

    They are different languages pointing toward the same inquiry.

    The soul of my work is an invitation to perceive more deeply.

    Not to believe more.
    Not to know more.
    Not to become more certain.

    But to expand our capacity for perception.

    Because I believe that transformation begins long before solutions.
    It begins in how we see.

    My deepest question

    What becomes possible when we meet reality before we reduce it?

    Every part of my work returns to this question.

    How do we perceive ourselves?
    How do we perceive one another?
    How do we perceive power?
    Nature?
    Spirit?
    History?
    Conflict?
    Healing?

    Every relationship begins with perception.

    And perception is never neutral.

    The practice

    We do not see reality as it is.

    We see through stories.

    Through our wounds.
    Through our privileges.
    Through our education.
    Through culture.
    Through longing.
    Through fear.
    Through inherited narratives.
    Through collective memory.

    The goal is therefore not to become «storyless.»

    The practice is becoming aware of the stories through which we are looking.

    Only then can perception become freer.

    Every person is a world

    The phrase that perhaps carries my work more than any other is:

    Cada persona es un mundo.

    Every person is a world.

    Not a metaphor.

    A truth.

    Every human being carries:

    • generations we never met
    • grief we never witnessed
    • beauty no one else has seen
    • contradictions still unfolding
    • dreams left unnamed
    • invisible acts of courage
    • forgotten losses
    • immense intelligence
    • sacred mystery

    We mistake visibility for depth.

    We mistake one chapter for an entire life.

    We underestimate the range of a human being because we mistake what is visible for what is real.

    Complexity is ordinary

    I have lived many different lives.

    Privilege and hardship.

    Science and spirituality.

    Academia and the streets.

    Rescuing and being rescued.

    Finding home.
    Losing home.
    Finding it again.

    Not because my life is extraordinary.

    But because every human life contains extraordinary range.

    The difference is only how much of it becomes visible.

    Depth is ordinary.

    The extraordinary part is remembering it.

    The ethics of perception

    I believe perception is an ethical practice.

    How we see another person changes how we meet them.

    Every premature conclusion limits another person’s freedom.

    Every projection replaces another person’s reality with my own.

    Every certainty risks becoming an unconscious act of domination.

    Perhaps supremacy begins much earlier than politics.

    Perhaps it begins when I unconsciously place my interpretation above your lived reality.

    This is a form of epistemic supremacy.

    Not because I intend harm.

    Because certainty is seductive.

    Sovereignty

    Every human being has the right to remain larger than my perception of them.

    Every human being has the right not to be reduced to my explanation.

    I believe genuine perception restores sovereignty.

    Not political sovereignty alone.

    Relational sovereignty.

    The freedom to remain irreducible.

    The freedom not to become a character inside someone else’s story.

    Listening then becomes something different.

    Not waiting to respond.

    Making room for another reality.

    Humility

    Humility is not thinking less of ourselves.

    Humility is remembering that our perspective is always a perspective—

    never the whole horizon.

    This does not deny truth.

    Truth exists.

    But truth is always larger than my current capacity to perceive it.

    Therefore my practice is neither certainty nor relativism.

    It is relationship.

    My paradox

    Stay unwavering in your values.

    Stay permeable in your perception.

    This is perhaps the sentence that most deeply expresses my work.

    Integrity without rigidity.

    Humility without losing discernment.

    Conviction without supremacy.

    Why horses matter

    Horses do not teach through explanation.

    They reveal.

    They stand in relationship.

    They do not ask us to become different.

    They reveal what is already present.

    Perhaps this is also my work.

    Not giving answers.

    Creating conditions in which people encounter themselves.

    Why sociology matters

    Sociology reveals invisible structures.

    It helps us perceive what has been normalized.

    It asks:

    Who benefits?

    Who is excluded?

    Which stories became truth?

    Which truths became invisible?

    It trains perception.

    Why spirituality matters

    Spirituality expands perception beyond the visible.

    It invites reverence.

    Not certainty.

    Not escape.

    Relationship.

    Why astrology matters

    For me, astrology is not prediction.

    It is another language for perceiving cycles, invitations, timing, archetypes, and patterns.

    It does not replace responsibility.

    It deepens relationship.

    Why social justice matters

    Justice without perception becomes ideology.

    Spirituality without justice becomes escapism.

    Justice asks us to perceive suffering that privilege often hides.

    Spirituality asks us to perceive interconnectedness.

    Together they restore belonging.

    The deeper movement

    I am less interested in telling people what to think

    than in expanding the way they perceive.

    I do not wish to give answers.

    I wish to cultivate perception.

    Not because perception solves everything.

    Because perception changes everything.

    Teaching

    A teacher is not someone who transfers knowledge.

    A teacher expands another person’s capacity to perceive.

    A good teacher does not reduce mystery.

    They expand our capacity to live with it.

    They do not close questions.

    They ask better ones.

    They do not ask others to think like them.

    They create the conditions for people to think—and perceive—more deeply for themselves.

    The paradox at the center

    Life is astonishingly intimate.

    And astonishingly impersonal.

    The deeper we enter ourselves,

    the more connected we become with everything.

    The people I serve

    My work is for those who have become tired of certainty.

    Those who have outgrown simple answers without becoming cynical.

    Those who sense that complexity is not confusion—

    it is reality.

    Those who want spirituality without dogma.

    Justice without hatred.

    Humility without self-erasure.

    Power without domination.

    Belonging without conformity.

    Those who long to meet life more truthfully.

    Those who are ready to loosen inherited stories while remaining deeply rooted in their values.

    Those who understand that healing is not becoming someone else.

    It is becoming spacious enough to hold complexity.

    My invitation

    I do not invite people into my conclusions.

    I invite them into a different quality of attention.

    Because every act of genuine perception is an act of restoring sovereignty.

    And perhaps that is where healing begins.

    Not in certainty.

    Not in explanation.

    But in reverence.

    Reverence for life.

    Reverence for mystery.

    Reverence for the irreducible world each person carries within them.

    Every person is a world.

    Including you.

    Intentional Solidarity

    Continues Liberation