There was a time in my life when I moved through the days like a machine.

Wake up, survive, get things done. Even in the most sacred seasons of my life, becoming a mother, starting over in new countries, opening new chapters... I often felt like something was missing. Not because I wasn’t grateful. But because I was disconnected. Disconnected from myself. From the present moment. From the invisible thread that makes life feel sacred, even in the ordinary.

And then I started creating rituals. Not the fancy, elaborate kind you see on Pinterest. Simple ones. Ones that felt like me.

Lighting a candle before journaling. Taking a deep breath with my tea before the first sip. Whispering an intention before I open my computer. Putting one hand on my heart and one on my belly before I respond in anger. Dancing for three minutes in the kitchen while dinner cooks.

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Looking into my child’s eyes and silently saying, “I see you”, even if just for a moment. These little acts changed everything. Because ritual is not about doing more. It’s about doing with presence. It’s a way to return to myself in a world that constantly pulls me away. A way to say: I am not just surviving. I am living. I am feeling. I am remembering.

In a world that glorifies hustle, ritual slows me down. In a culture that numbs, ritual makes me feel. In days full of noise, ritual becomes a gentle anchor, reminding me of who I am beneath the chaos.

Ritual is why I created Pura Maracuya.

Not just a place. Not just a brand. But a space where the sacred is invited back in. Where cacao is medicine, not trend. Where breath is prayer. Where even washing your face can become a ceremony of self-love. This isn’t about perfection. It’s about presence. It’s about remembering that your life is not something to rush through. It’s something to feel. To honour. To live inside of, moment by moment.

And if you don’t know where to start... start small.

Pick one moment a day. Breathe. Light something. Whisper a word. Place your hand on your body. And just be there. You don’t need a full moon to make it sacred. You just need to show up. That’s the magic. That’s the ritual.

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With love,

Michaela

Let her take charge.

For a long time, I thought feminine energy was something fragile. Soft, quiet, maybe even a little naïve. And in the world I grew up in, none of that felt particularly safe.

So I did what many of us do:

I leaned into structure. Into logic. Into control. Into “getting things done.” I knew how to survive in a masculine world. But I didn’t know how to be held. I didn’t know how to surrender. And I certainly didn’t know how to let my feminine lead.

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That began to change the moment I started listening to my body. Really listening.Not pushing through fatigue. Not overriding my needs. But pausing long enough to hear the quiet: the ache, the hunger, the intuition, the pulse.

The feminine doesn’t scream. She whispers.

She waits. She pulls you back, not because she’s passive, but because she wants you to receive. To open. To soften into who you really are. I began remembering her through movement. Through breath. Through moments of stillness with my children, when nothing was perfect but everything was holy. Through cacao ceremonies and moon rituals and crying in the shower. Through dance. Through silence. Through pleasure.

Through saying no.

And what I realised is that the feminine isn’t weak.

She’s wild. She’s deep. She’s terrifyingly honest. And when she leads, things don’t fall apart. They fall into place.

Letting her lead doesn’t mean rejecting the masculine.It means inviting balance. Letting structure serve softness. Letting action follow intuition. Letting rhythm rise from rest.

I began trusting her when I stopped trying to prove. Stopped trying to perform. Stopped pretending I wasn’t tired. And the more I trusted her… the more life began to open. My motherhood softened. My work became richer, slower, more aligned. My relationships shifted. Some left. Some deepened. All became more honest.

I’m still learning how to let her lead.

It’s not always easy. But it’s always true. She lives in every woman. Every man. Every child. She’s the part of us that feels. The part that knows without logic. The part that moves with the moon and cries during music and whispers, “You already are enough.”

If you’ve forgotten her, she’s not mad. She’s just waiting. Patiently. Lovingly. With arms wide open.

And when you let her take one small step forward… everything begins to change.

With love,

Michaela

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I'll take you to the beginning...

I was born on a cold January morning in 1988, in a small town in the Czech Republic. A country still shaking off the weight of communism. Everything around me was structured, practical, heavy with expectations. From the very beginning, I felt like I didn’t belong. I asked too many questions. I felt too much. I never understood why we were expected to sit quietly, memorize facts, and not wonder too loudly about the world.

I always sensed there was more.

I didn’t know it then, but my soul was already whispering: you weren’t born to obey. You were born to remember.

At nineteen, I became a mother.

Most people saw it as a mistake. But it was the most sacred initiation of my life.

My daughter Michaela arrived and turned everything I thought I knew inside out. She gave my life purpose, depth, clarity. And a reason to return to myself.

Years later, when my son Dominik was born, he brought fire. He didn’t let me forget who I was or why I came here. Through him, I started questioning the systems I had once surrendered to. Especially the ones we call “normal.” Education. Parenting. Self-sacrifice. He mirrored the pieces of myself I hadn’t yet dared to meet. And I started listening.

In 2020, our family moved to Italy. Surrounded by nature, mountains, and new rhythm, something in me softened. And then Neli came, born in August, under the stillness of a global pause. Her presence brought with it a deeper awakening. It was after Neli that I really began to explore yoga. Not as a trend, but as a lifeline. I began to learn about energy, crystals, the chakra system, and the body as a sacred instrument. I started to remember ancient things I’d never been taught. Truths that lived in my bones, not my books.

Then, in 2022, we traveled to Costa Rica. We had seen La Ecovilla in a documentary, and we went to see it in person. But the thing that struck me wasn’t a place. It was the land. The jungle. The rivers. The air. There was something ancient and alive there. Something my nervous system recognized before my mind did. It wasn’t logical. But it was undeniable. I felt seen by something much older than me. And I knew I had touched something I would never be able to forget.

And then came Isabella. In 2024, she was born into my arms, wide-eyed and luminous. And in the quiet, postpartum nights, as I held her against my chest and stared into the dark, Costa Rica came back. Not as a memory, but as a call. That’s when I knew: It was time.

Time to stop dreaming about the life I longed for and start living it. Time to choose a way of being that matched the rhythm of my soul.

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So I began...

I didn’t have it all figured out. I still don’t. But I had the only thing I needed: clarity in my heart and the courage to follow it. And from that clarity came Pura Maracuya. It’s not a brand. It’s not a business plan. It’s a living, breathing space where truth is safe, softness is power, and every soul is welcome. Not just women. Not just seekers. Not just mothers.

Everyone who longs to come home to themselves.

I’m not here to guide from above. I’m walking this road with you, learning, forgetting, remembering again. I’m the woman who cracked open through motherhood, heartbreak, awakening, stillness, chaos, and chose to build something beautiful from it all.

So this is me.

And this is Pura Maracuya.

Not perfect. Not polished. But honest, alive, and real. Not perfect. Not polished. But honest, alive, and real. If you’ve read this far, maybe something in you recognizes something in me. And maybe that means you’re ready too. To soften. To listen. To come home.

With all my love,

Michaela

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