When the Automatic Doors Open

Every time the supermarket doors slide open in front of me, I feel as if I’m stepping into an energetic portal that reflects my inner state. It’s an ordinary place, something I do over and over again, yet it is also a space where my energy, my awareness, and my presence shape the entire experience. I’ve been to the supermarket a million times, and still, each visit becomes a small ritual of being human. When those doors part, I ask myself: What energy do I choose to embody today? What space am I willing to open within myself? What consciousness am I bringing? What joy do I want to live?

I’ve discovered that the way I walk into the supermarket determines the quality of everything that follows. If I enter in a rush, everything feels heavy; if I enter with presence, the world lights up. So I pause for a moment before stepping through. I breathe. I allow my energy to open. I feel my body. And I choose. I choose joy. I choose curiosity. I choose wonder. I choose to transform the ordinary into something sacred. The space becomes fertile ground where I can discover flavors, colors, products, possibilities, and messages the universe wants to offer me.

Sometimes I walk in with a clear list of what I want to buy; other times I go intending to repeat my favorite meals and feel the comfort of the familiar. And then, suddenly, that inner question rises: What am I willing to invite into my life today? What am I ready to release? What do I want to share with my family? What do I wish to transform? Each item I pick becomes a conscious decision. I love to think of myself as the guardian of the grocery cart—the one who guides the nutritional path of my home. My choices are not only for me; they nourish, strengthen, or soften the bodies and the energy of the people I love.

This cart becomes an extension of my intuition. I feel my hands choosing from a place deeper than the mind. Every product holds a message, an energy, an intention. My intuition speaks through gentle impulses: sometimes inviting me to try something new, sometimes guiding me back to simplicity, and sometimes encouraging me to let go of something that once felt essential in my kitchen. This experience reminds me that life works the same way—adding, releasing, rearranging, and flowing with the natural rhythm of my soul.

Something in me also awakens when I see a sale sign. It’s a fascinating energy. My mind wants to justify it, but my spirit asks me to look deeper. Do I buy something just because it’s discounted? Do I take something simply because it’s available? Or do I choose from presence, wisdom, and clarity about what my body truly needs? I love asking myself these questions because they wake me up. They remind me that I am the one choosing—not the labels, the colors, or the prices.

I’ve learned that being in charge of the grocery cart is a spiritual act of power. I’m the one who decides what enters my home, what nourishes my family, what strengthens my body, and what elevates my energy. This choice becomes an act of love. I love imagining that with every item I place in the cart, I’m planting seeds of wellness, vitality, and harmony. I become the alchemist of my kitchen, the creator of the flavors my loved ones experience, the guardian of my home’s nourishment.

Walking down the supermarket aisles becomes an active meditation. I observe the colors, smell the fruit, listen to my sensations, listen to my body. This space becomes a laboratory of presence. And as I move through it, I feel the act of grocery shopping stop being a task and become an exploration of myself. My decisions reflect my inner world, my desires, my intentions, and the love I want to express.

Leaving the supermarket with a full cart is more than completing a list. It is returning home with new energy, with conscious choices, with gifts from the earth, and with the certainty that nourishment begins with the vibration from which I choose. And as I put everything away, I give thanks. I thank the earth, my intuition, and life itself for allowing me to experience each visit as a ritual of love, expansion, and presence.