The Night the Stars Reached Back

My awakening began 27 years ago, and through all the lifetimes it feels like I’ve lived since, one question has stayed with me:

Where am I from? Where is home?

It’s a question that lives in the marrow of so many who are awakening—a quiet ache that rises when we begin to remember we’re more than human, more than history, more than this one life.

For years, I searched for the answer. I had intuitive readings, channeled readings, past-life regressions. And I took notes! I underlined words, looked for patterns. But it wasn’t until I began writing my book that the threads finally started weaving together.

And when they did, it felt like the most exquisite homecoming.

The Answer Was Always There

As I sifted through my notes, I started to realize how many times the answer to that burning question—Where am I from?—had already been given to me.

Back then, I didn’t yet know how to go within and discern my own truth—or trust the answers I was given. I kept waiting for a “signier sign,” something that felt undeniable.

And yet, the truth had been whispering to me all along.

I am a Sirian starseed, from the Sirius star system ✨

The answer was always there, hidden in plain sight, waiting for me to be ready to see it. 

Over the years, several intuitives and channelers told me I was connected to Sirius—often mentioning dolphins in their messages, describing them as beings who carry Sirian frequency and consciousness. I even read a novel once, The Sirian Redemption, that stirred something ancient in me—like an echo from a language I used to speak.

But it wasn’t until my trip to Egypt in 2020 that the pieces began to lock into place. This experience was an activation. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it triggered a remembering that rippled through my entire being.

It took three years to integrate those downloads. And it wasn’t until I was creating a video of my experience at Luxor Temple that everything aligned. The lock clicked open. And I just knew.

I don’t get readings often anymore, but something recently nudged me to book a channeled session. I had other questions I wanted to explore, and in an offhanded way, I mentioned something about home.

She paused, went inward, and then said, “You’re home is Sirius B.”

The name sent a hum through my body, like an ancient chord being struck again after eons of silence.

The Night the Stars Reached Back

And then something magical happened.

It was Saturday night, and I couldn’t sleep. My heart was heavy—so much uncertainty, so much letting go.

Diesel, my beloved cat, had begun his transition. I didn’t know how much longer we’d have—only that it wasn’t long. (It turned out to be three more days). He was pressed against my side, his presence both comforting and heartbreaking. My mind kept spinning, trying to find peace in the unknown.

The sadness was close, but I wasn’t ready to face it at 3 a.m. I just wanted to sleep.

I lay on my side, facing the window. Our blinds are woven, not solid, so the faintest light filters through in threads. Out of nowhere a bright light appeared, bright enough that it grabbed my attention through my closed lids.

I opened my eyes and focused on the light for several beats. The light didn’t move. It shimmered, steady and alive, like it was waiting for me to notice.

I was reminded of another night last year, when two lights floated above the tree line and vanished before I could take a photo.

Could this be the same thing?

After ten minutes, curiosity won. I slipped quietly from the bed, lifted the blind, and looked out. The sky was clear, jeweled with stars, but the bright light wasn’t among them. There, to the left hovered a single brilliant point of light.

As soon as I found it, I just knew.

I grabbed my phone, opened up the sky-map app, and held it up against the window.

Sirius.

Tears filled my eyes as a wave of recognition washed through me. It wasn’t just a star—it was a hello.

It was like a cosmic embrace—as if my galactic family reached across the stars to remind me that distance is only an illusion.

In that instant, the vastness of space folded into my heart, and I could feel home pulsing inside me.

Home is something I carry. 

It’s the light that steadies me when everything feels uncertain.

The belonging that lets me do the work I came here to do.

The frequency that hums beneath all the lifetimes, whispering, You are never alone.

The Frequency of Home

That night reminded me of something I’ve come to understand about awakening: we’re not searching for something out there. We’re remembering something in here.

The signs and synchronicities that appear along the way—whether they come as a bright light through the blinds or the name of a star system whispered in a reading—aren’t here to prove our worthiness or give us identity. They’re here to awaken the resonance of home inside us.

Because home isn’t a location. It’s a frequency.

It’s the vibration of belonging that arises when our soul recognizes itself.

And when we tune into that frequency, when we allow ourselves to feel it—to live from it—it changes everything.

We no longer chase confirmation. We live from knowing.

And in that knowing, separation fades ... only the frequency of connection remains.

xo, Mitzi