Feeling Is Mine A Sacral Chakra Journey on Healing and Bodily Autonomy
There comes a point in the healing journey when a quiet truth rises to the surface: feelings are not public property.
Your emotions belong to you. Your body belongs to you. Your creativity belongs to you. Your pleasure belongs to you. Nobody else gets to decide what you are allowed to feel, when you are allowed to feel it, or how your healing should look.
On October 17, 2026, Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot will release Feeling Is Mine: A Sacral Chakra Journey, a new album exploring emotional awareness, creativity, sensuality, bodily autonomy, and the right to experience life on one’s own terms.
As a Sound Alchemist, author, Navy veteran, and survivor advocate, Julie’s creative work often returns to the relationship between lived experience, the body, and personal expression. This album continues that body of work through sound.
At its heart, Feeling Is Mine A Sacral Chakra Journey is an invitation to listen inward. It does not tell anyone what to feel. It does not prescribe a single path. It creates space for reflection, boundaries, and personal choice.
The album begins with the simple truth that feelings are personal
Many people are taught, directly or indirectly, to disconnect from their feelings.
Some are told they are too emotional. Some learn to hide fear, sadness, anger, or desire to stay safe. Some grow up in environments where their bodies are treated as if they belong to someone else’s expectations.
For survivors of sexual violence, this disconnection can become even more complex. Violation can affect how a person relates to touch, bodily sensation, pleasure, voice, safety, and choice. It can also shape how emotions move through the body, or how difficult it feels to name them at all.
There is no universal response to trauma. There is no single way a survivor “should” feel. There is no deadline for feeling connected to the body again.
Feeling Is Mine was created from that understanding.
The album holds space for a basic, powerful statement:
My feelings belong to me.
That statement may sound simple, but for many people, it is a reclamation. It says the inner world is not something to be judged, rushed, or managed by others. It says emotional truth does not need outside permission to exist.
This matters because healing cannot be forced.
A person cannot be ordered into safety. Relaxation cannot be demanded. Trust cannot be required. Emotional readiness cannot be scheduled by someone else.
Sound can support a practice of listening, but the listener remains in control. The body remains sovereign. Choice remains central.
The sacral chakra offers a language for emotion and creativity
In many chakra traditions, the sacral chakra is associated with the lower abdomen, the pelvis, water, emotion, creativity, sensuality, and pleasure. It is often understood as the energetic center connected to feeling, flow, intimacy, and personal expression.
For Julie Jewels Smoot, this framework offers a meaningful way to explore the relationship between emotion and the body.
The sacral chakra is not only about sensuality in a narrow sense. It is also about the right to feel joy, grief, desire, tenderness, curiosity, and creative impulse. It holds questions many people carry quietly:
Do I feel safe inside my own body?
Am I allowed to enjoy my life?
Can I create without apology?
Can I say yes when I mean yes?
Can I say no when I mean no?
Can I feel without shame?
These questions do not always have quick answers. Sometimes they are answered slowly, through breath, movement, stillness, writing, sound, or rest.
The album uses music as a doorway into that inquiry. Not as a cure. Not as a promise. As a space where the listener can notice what is present and decide what feels right.
This distinction matters. Healing spaces must respect autonomy. Even gentle practices can feel overwhelming when they ignore consent, pace, or personal history.
A sacral chakra journey rooted in bodily autonomy must allow the listener to remain the authority.
Sound can create space without demanding an outcome
Sound has a unique way of meeting the body.
A tone can feel spacious. A vibration can invite attention. A rhythm can help the breath find a slower pace. Silence between notes can become just as meaningful as the notes themselves.
Still, sound is not a command.
That is one of the guiding values behind Feeling Is Mine. The album does not demand that a listener relax, release, forgive, open, or transform. Those words can become heavy when they are used without care, especially for people who have had their boundaries crossed.
Instead, the album invites listening.
Listening can mean noticing a sensation in the body. It can mean recognizing an emotion that has been pushed aside. It can mean realizing that nothing needs to happen right now. It can mean turning the music off and choosing quiet.
All of those responses are valid.
In trauma-aware creative work, agency matters as much as intention. A soothing sound is only supportive if the person receiving it has space to choose their own relationship with it.
That may look like:
Pausing when something feels too intense
Placing a hand on the heart or belly only if that feels welcome
Staying seated, lying down, or moving gently
Journaling after listening
Listening for a few minutes instead of a full session
Returning to the album later, or not at all
This album is a creative and spiritual offering, not medical treatment or a replacement for trauma-informed support. Its purpose is to create an atmosphere where personal reflection can unfold at a self-directed pace.
The listener gets to choose what is enough.
Creativity can become a way back to the self
Creativity is often one of the first things that gets buried under survival.
When the nervous system is focused on getting through the day, creative expression can feel distant. Poetry, music, movement, painting, singing, and pleasure may feel unreachable, or even unsafe.
Julie’s body of work has long explored how creative practices can help reclaim voice and presence. Through poetry, movement, meditation, and sound, she has written and created around survival, trauma, self-compassion, boundaries, and listening to the body.
Feeling Is Mine continues that exploration through music.
Creativity does not have to be polished to be meaningful. It does not have to become a performance. It can be private, quiet, messy, and small.
A person might reclaim creativity by humming alone in a room. By moving one hand to music. By writing one honest sentence. By choosing a color that feels alive. By letting the body sway, then stop.
These acts matter because they return choice to the person creating.
The sacral chakra journey is connected to this kind of expression. It asks what wants to move, what wants to be felt, what wants to be made, and what needs protection.
For survivors, creative expression may also need firm boundaries. Not every story has to be shared. Not every memory has to become art. Not every feeling needs a witness.
Private creativity is still real creativity.
The right to create includes the right to decide what remains sacred, hidden, unfinished, or unnamed.
Bodily autonomy is central to the listening experience
Bodily autonomy means having the right to make choices about one’s own body. It includes consent, boundaries, physical safety, emotional pacing, and the freedom to define one’s own relationship with pleasure, touch, rest, and expression.
In the context of this album, bodily autonomy is not an abstract idea. It is the foundation.
The body carries memory, sensation, instinct, and wisdom. It may also carry fear, grief, numbness, anger, or confusion. Those responses deserve respect. They do not need to be corrected into something more acceptable.
When someone has lived through violation, the body may not feel like home right away. It may feel guarded. It may feel unpredictable. It may feel silent. It may feel too loud.
Reconnection, if and when it happens, belongs to the person experiencing it.
That is why Feeling Is Mine centers choice. The album gives listeners room to approach their bodies with curiosity rather than pressure. It supports the idea that no one else gets to decide what healing should look like from the outside.
Bodily autonomy can sound like:
I can stop when I need to stop.
I can feel what I feel without explaining it.
I can name my boundaries.
I can change my mind.
I can seek support.
I can rest.
I can choose what pleasure means to me.
I can belong to myself.
These statements are not small. For many people, they are part of rebuilding trust from the inside out.
This album honors survivors without defining them by survival
Survivor-centered work must be careful. It must not reduce people to what happened to them. It must not turn pain into spectacle. It must not imply that healing has to look graceful, linear, or inspiring.
Survivors are whole people.
They may be grieving. They may be angry. They may be creative, sensual, numb, joyful, exhausted, curious, protective, or all of these at different times. They may want silence. They may want music. They may want community. They may want solitude.
Feeling Is Mine honors that complexity.
The album does not try to speak for every survivor. It comes from Julie’s own creative path, shaped by her work as a Sound Alchemist, author, Navy veteran, and survivor advocate. It reflects a commitment to boundaries, emotional truth, and the right to self-definition.
This is part of what makes the project so grounded. It holds feeling without taking possession of it. It opens a door without pulling anyone through.
Music can accompany a person, but it cannot decide for them.
That is the deeper message of the album: each person remains the authority over their own inner life.
The journey opens on October 17, 2026
Feeling Is Mine: A Sacral Chakra Journey releases on October 17, 2026.
For those familiar with Julie Jewels Smoot’s work, the album will feel connected to her larger creative mission: honoring the body, giving voice to lived experience, and creating sound-based spaces for reflection, self-compassion, and choice.
For those discovering her work for the first time, this album offers a deeply personal entry point.
It asks the listener to remember what may have been denied, minimized, or controlled:
My body. My emotions. My creativity. My choices.
And most of all:
My feelings belong to me.
That message is not loud, but it is strong. It does not need to argue for its place. It simply returns ownership to where it always belonged.
Healing may unfold through music, silence, movement, therapy, community, solitude, spiritual practice, or ordinary moments of self-recognition. There is no single path. There is no required timeline.
What matters is that the path honors consent, choice, and the living truth of the person walking it.
Feeling Is Mine is a sound offering for that remembrance. It invites emotional awareness without force. It honors creativity without performance. It approaches sensuality with respect. It centers bodily autonomy as a sacred right.
The takeaway is simple and steady: no one else gets to decide what you are allowed to feel.
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