Written by Shelly Moore ©️ 2025

Some days, I post ghost stories, theories about limestone memory, tales of voices whispering from hotel rooms when no living soul is around.

Some days, I tell you about quantum physics, skeptical experiments, placebo effects, and how the mind loves to make patterns out of static.

Some days, I am both of these people — and neither — and that, my friend, is exactly the point.

🗝️ Here’s my truth:

I don’t know what I believe anymore.

I don’t know if spirits are the restless dead, echoes in stone, or just our primal brain conjuring shapes to make sense of grief.

I don’t know if every sign is a message from something bigger, or just the beautiful coincidence of a chaotic universe and my meaning-hungry heart.

I don’t know if the soul lives on, or if consciousness is an energy field or a biological hallucination, or some impossible paradox of both.

And I’m learning to love this not-knowing more than any rigid certainty I ever clung to before.

🌿 Certainty is comfortable. But it’s not always wise.

We humans adore wrapping the world up in neat boxes:

👉 Heaven here. Hell there.

👉 Ghosts here. Fraud there.

👉 Science here. Faith there.

But the deeper I go — into the paranormal, into metaphysics, into the tangled garden of my own mind — the more I see how messy it really is. The more I see how certainty can become a tiny cage.

I’d rather be a bridge than a warden.

🌀 Hermetic truth: As above, so below. As within, so without. Microcosm, macrocosm.

Paradox is sacred.

The more I study, the more I unlearn. The more I listen, the more I realize everything might be true in some form, from some angle, on some plane of reality I can’t yet see.

So I let myself be skeptical — ask hard questions, demand good evidence, stay suspicious of easy answers.

And I also let myself be open — to wonder, to wild theories, to the possibility that reality is more poetic than science can ever dissect.

This is my real belief system: radical honesty with my own questions.

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✨ What this means for you, if you walk this with me…

When you read my stories here — ghost encounters, afterlife breadcrumbs, quantum rabbit holes — know I’m not handing you dogma.

I’m handing you a keyring of maybes.

I’m showing you that you can live in the paradox:

Be curious AND cautious. Be reverent AND rebellious. Be spiritual AND scientific.

You can light a candle for your grandmother and still want lab data before you believe the house is haunted.

You can watch orbs on your camera and still check the dust first.

You can kneel in the dirt, feel the hum of the universe, and admit you have no idea what happens next.

And maybe that’s more sacred than pretending to know.

🌙 In the end…

I don’t know what I believe anymore.

And that, my friend, keeps my eyes open, my questions sharp, and my soul a living, breathing question mark — exactly as it should be.

Welcome to the paradox.

Stay awhile.

🔑 If you feel this too — tell me. Share your favorite contradictions, your secret maybes, your holy doubts. Let’s be beautifully uncertain together.