A series of reflections excavating the unexamined mind.
Shared as essays, spoken word, and community conversation.
Every myth we inherit (personal, cultural, or collective) shapes how we see ourselves and the world.
The Common Myth is my ongoing practice of pausing, questioning, and unearthing the hidden agreements that live beneath the surface of our daily lives. These reflections are both reminders to myself and invitations for you: to look deeper, to think for yourself, and to reclaim the freedom that already belongs to you.
Here, you’ll find essays, audio readings, and connected practices… threads of excavation that move from reflection into embodiment. This is where inquiry meets creation, where we dissolve illusion and rediscover the art of living with presence.
Welcome to The Common Myth
If you’ve found your way here, I imagine you, too, are curious.
Curious enough to look beneath the surface.
Curious enough to ask whether the myths you live by are truly your own… or simply inherited.
I don’t have final answers.
What I do have is a practice: excavating the unexamined mind, holding the questions, and creating from presence.
Thank you for crossing this threshold with me.
— Veronica
Myth comes from Greek mŷthos, meaning speech, tale, or story. It passed through Latin and French before entering English. Its meaning evolved from any kind of tale to specifically sacred or traditional stories, and later, to false or untrue beliefs.
At its deepest linguistic root, myth is tied to the Proto-Indo-European base muH- / mewd-, meaning to think, imagine, mutter, or speak. This connects myth to the very act of giving form to thought through sound.
A related echo appears in Sanskrit with māyā, meaning illusion, magic, or appearance. In yogic philosophy, māyā refers to the veiling power that obscures reality, keeping us entangled in the kleshas (the afflictions or obstacles of the mind).
Both mythos and māyā express the human impulse to create and live within stories… narratives that can reveal deep truths, but also conceal them beneath layers of imagination.
Fade Into You: A Song, A Name, A Mirror
Some songs don’t just play. They stay with you. This is a story about Fade Into You, the soft synchronicities that named my dog, and the healing music offers when we let it move through us.
There are songs that don’t just play.
They hover.
They dissolve into your breath, your bones, your memory.
Fade Into You by Mazzy Star is one of those songs for me.
It surfaced again recently, quietly, the way it always does. Soft, haunting, like someone whispering from the edge of a dream. And this time, I sang it, because I needed to, and frankly, I wanted to.
Music has always been a kind of mirror for me. Revealing layers I didn’t know were there.
It lets me feel things that words alone can’t unlock.
Sometimes I can’t even get through a song without crying, not because I’m sad, but because something inside finally gets permission to move.
That’s the thing about music, when you let it move through you.
It bypasses the filters of ego. It asks nothing.
It simply offers presence.
Pearl and the Song That Found Her
There’s another thread here.
When I was choosing a name for my dog, two names kept circling: Mazzy and Pearl.
I told myself I’d know the right name when the moment came. And when I pulled into park my car on my way to pick her up, I stepped out of the car and saw a restaurant sign right in front of me: Pearl Restaurant.
That was the sign. I named her Pearl.
A few weeks later, I looked up the meaning of the word Mazzy.
Something I hadn’t done before.
It means Pearl.
That moment landed in me like a quiet truth: no matter which name I had chosen, the meaning would have found me.
Just like the song.
Just like she did.
Pearl is my shadow, in the most loving way.
She’s the softness I return to, the presence beside me when I don’t even know I need grounding.
She carries that Fade Into You energy, too. Quiet (sometimes). Devoted. Deeply felt.
What Music Moves in You?
This moment, this song, this name isn’t just a story. It’s a mirror.
What if Pearl is both the reminder and the result?
The symbol of what softens me. The medicine that keeps me close to centre when life feels heavy.
A reflection of my own quiet strength.
And Fade Into You, this song, became the portal to feel all of it.
So today, I shared it.
Just a few verses.
As a soul remembering itself.
If music has ever held you through a moment, helped you feel something you couldn’t say, or reminded you of who you really are…
This is for you.