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.
What August Taught Me
August reminded me that endings aren’t empty — they’re full of sparks waiting to ignite. What rose in me wasn’t despair but curiosity, courage, and the reminder that wounds can be creative fire. Gratitude, I realized, is not bypass or surface positivity. It’s the evidence that I’ve faced the wound, done the work, and integrated the wisdom.
This month, I was reminded that endings aren’t empty.
They are full of sparks waiting to ignite. When illusions fell away, when old walls crumbled, what rose in me wasn’t despair but curiosity, courage, and the reminder that even wounds can be creative fire.
August Lesson
Gratitude Is Proof of Integration
August showed me that gratitude isn’t surface-level positivity. It isn’t saying “thank you” to bypass pain. Gratitude is the fruit that only grows when you’ve been willing to sit with discomfort… the regret, the resentment, the anger, the doubt.
If you haven’t faced those feelings, you can’t see your past through gratitude. And if you can’t see your past through gratitude, it’s a sign you haven’t fully met your own power.
This month reminded me: wounds don’t arrive to punish us. They arrive to reveal where we’ve forgotten who we are. They stir the heart when we’ve closed it, challenge the mind when we cling to illusions, disrupt our footing when we’ve grown rigid, and awaken our drive when we’ve forgotten our spark.
And when I can be with them fully, when I feel, release, and allow meaning to emerge, then gratitude becomes the evidence that I’ve integrated the lesson.
Carrying It Forward
So, how do I take this wisdom with me into September?
By noticing how I hold my past. When I feel the pull of lack, resentment, or doubt, I will pause and ask:
Am I looking at this cup as empty or full?
Can I meet this wound with gratitude?
If not…. How can I let it shape something meaningful, creative, or of service?
This is the alchemy of the wound. Not erasure, not bypass, but integration. Not just letting go, but letting it move through me until it becomes art, movement, voice, offering, living.
My August Mantra
"My wound is my knowledge. Gratitude is proof that I have met its lesson. What I integrate becomes my power, what I create becomes my embodied expression."