Lately, I keep thinking about how I give my power away. A couple of years ago, I had an astrological reading and the person told me I would likely move in March, April, or May of this year. Starting in January, I was so nervous I would have to move unexpectedly because I wasn’t making enough money to move into the sort of place I want to live. (Nor do I feel pulled to move out of the Bay Area where the cost of living is lower.) I worried I’d find mold or a meteor would hit my house, or some other catastrophe would befall me that necessitated a move.
You know what happened instead? I spent more time out of my house and in other people’s homes either locally or because I was traveling. In that way, I did have more space but not because I moved. Yet I spent nearly six months worrying about it because I gave too much weight to something a random astrologer said. (For the record, this is why I like archetypal astrology because it’s not predictive and instead presents ends of a spectrum.) It’s not only astrologers that I imbue with too much power, it’s almost anyone in a position of authority. My therapist can make the most off-handed comment like, “It will be a fun June,” and I’ll latch onto it like she said the Gospel truth.
Call your power back from all dimensions of time and space. Photo by Miguel Bruna on Unsplash
That’s a real example and I mention it because parts of June were fun but parts of June were terrible. My inner kid was so confused because she really thought June would just be fun because of that one comment from my therapist. The issue is I keep making other people omniscient and omnipotent because I’m not remembering the answers are inside me. I don’t know everything, I can’t predict what will happen six months from now, but my body tells me things.
In July, I was super nervous to meet up with some new friends, which didn’t make sense because I don’t get social anxiety. I kept feeling like I’d meet someone or run into someone with a romantic component to it but I wasn’t excited about the meeting. Lo and behold, I ran into an ex that I hadn’t seen or spoken to in seven years. I share this not to demonstrate my psychic prowess but to emphasize that I don’t need to perpetually ask other people to tell me about my life. My body tells me about my life. Spirits tell me about my life. My higher power tells me about my life.
I am a powerful person in my own right and you are too, which I think is important to remember. In my spiritual tradition, we say that every person is a reflection of the Cosmic Consciousness. We are all mirrors, showing the same image but some mirrors are more warped, dirty, and pockmarked than others. Meditation is an act of polishing that mirror so the Cosmic Consciousness can be more clearly reflected. What I’m doing when I give my power away is wandering around, wondering if your mirror is cleaner than mine. It would be far more fruitful if I focused on my own mirror. In that way, I would take back my power.
I dream of a world where we understand other people are people, just like us. A world where we stop imbuing other humans with magical powers. A world where we remember we can trust ourselves and listen to the wisdom of our bodies. A world where instead of giving our power away, we take our power back.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
It’s funny that the title of this post is “It Can Be Gentle” when this week has been anything but. It wasn’t quite a Murphy’s Law week where everything that could go wrong did, but everything that could veer off course before redirecting did. For instance, my computer lost the first draft of this blog, checks are delayed, and oh yeah, I’ve had a searing headache for 48 hours which has literally never happened to me before.
When things in my life go awry, I want to exert force and make. them. better. I am the opposite of gentle, which for the record means quiet, docile, and soft. I am the person who screamed at the top of her lungs “Eff you!” when my family’s rental car window was bashed in a couple of years ago. I don’t need a microphone to be heard in the back of a room. What I’m saying is gentleness doesn’t come naturally to me unless I’m dealing with small children or animals. When it comes to the default way I treat myself, it’s not gentle.
So cute! So gentle! Photo by Anya Chernik on Unsplash
It’s probably for this reason that my first eating disorder sponsor repeatedly asked me, “How can you be gentle with yourself?” I hated when he asked me that because I didn’t want to be gentle! Gentleness was too slow and I wanted results immediately! At this point you might be thinking, “Yeah but remember the tortoise and the hare? You can win a race if you’re slow and steady.” However, I’d argue even slow and steady is not the same thing as gentle.
The advice when it comes to writing is that you should do it every day. “Make space for the muse to emerge,” and all that. We glorify consistency but is that really gentle? There are some days I can’t work on my novel, or rather, I choose not to because I’m overtired or I have a headache or my brain isn’t functioning. The “slow and steady” method would tell me to write for five minutes anyway. The gentle method would say, “It’s OK to take a break.”
I don’t always believe that. I feel guilty when I don’t write but there’s wisdom in the question from my first sponsor because not being gentle with myself is how I wound up in recovery for compulsive eating and exercising. Not being gentle with myself was a recipe for burnout, resentment, and frankly, misery. I’ve had enough misery and there’s always something to be miserable about but I’d rather not fan that flame. My last couple of posts have been about happiness because that’s what I want for myself and others. I want us to be happy not because we stumbled into Shangri-La but because we’re taking care of ourselves and each other. In a culture that lionizes force, let’s instead be gentle.
I dream of a world where we remember there’s a place for gentleness. A world where we understand slow and steady isn’t the same as gentleness. A world where we let ourselves take breaks when we need them without guilt. A world where we treat ourselves with care and remember it can be gentle.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Growing up on Disney fairytales and romantic comedies, a part of me has longed for the “happily ever after.” The time of life when everything is set, all your troubles are behind you, and you get to revel in the good. I haven’t surveyed every human, but I’m pretty sure this is a common response. However, like I wrote about last week, happiness is a behavior, not a time or place. And part of that behavior is being grateful for what is.
Some dear friends of mine moved here recently and I’m approaching their arrival differently. In years past, I would have craved constancy and spun out into a “happily ever after” where they would be here forever, but now I know better. As much as I want to be “best friends for life” with someone, to have people in my life forever, that’s not how the world works. People that I thought I’d socialize with in my 90s, I’ve had to let go of. People I was super close to once upon a time know nothing about my life these days. Instead of being bitter about it, I’m accepting it. This is reality.
If you slow down and look, I bet you’ll find some things to be grateful for. Photo by Rodolfo Mari on Unsplash
Gratitude fits in because I’m grateful for what I’m currently experiencing, not what I think I’ll be experiencing. I’m beyond thrilled my friends are here and I’ll enjoy our time together while it lasts precisely because I know it won’t. They’ll move away or our lives will change. Something will happen, that’s inevitable, but also OK.
Psychology professor Robert Emmons says:
“[G]ratitude makes us appreciate the value of something, and when we appreciate the value of something, we extract more benefits from it; we’re less likely to take it for granted. . . . In effect, I think gratitude allows us to participate more in life. We notice the positives more, and that magnifies the pleasures you get from life. Instead of adapting to goodness, we celebrate goodness.”
I’m participating more in my current life and appreciating what I already have. The life that isn’t a fairytale, the one where I don’t have everything I could ever wish for. The life that keeps changing because we can’t press pause. In this life, I’m grateful for friends new and old. I’m grateful for the multiple communities I’m a part of. I’m grateful both my parents are still alive. I’m grateful for my nieces and nephews – the ones I’m related to by blood and the ones I’m not. I’m grateful for the cozy, safe, quiet apartment I live in. I’m grateful for flowers and sunshine and birds. I’m grateful I know what it means to feel joy and that I’m no longer trying to capture it because I recognize as much as I’d like to hold on to happy emotions, I cannot. I’m grateful I have so many things to be grateful for.
I dream of a world where we understand there is no happily ever after. A world where we remember happiness is a behavior, not a place or time. A world where we understand that we can magnify our life’s pleasures by feeling grateful for what is.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
A part of me believes that if only I had ____, I’d be happy. Or when ____ happens, then I’ll be happy. It’s one of the most pernicious lies that exists but I take comfort in knowing I’m not the only one who falls for it. There’s a reason we have about a billion books, podcasts, and courses on how to be happy – we humans don’t really know what will make us happy. We think we know but we don’t. Fortunately, there’s been a lot of research on the topic.
My favorite resource on happiness (so far) is Dr. Laurie Santos and her podcast “The Happiness Lab.” Dr. Santos is a happiness expert and taught THE most popular class at Yale in 300 years: Psychology and the Good Life. It’s been adapted into a free online course taken by more than 3.3 million people to date.
Dr. Santos has done a ton of research on happiness and discovered the way we go about achieving happiness is all wrong. We think happiness is about our circumstances – the job, the relationship, the house, etc., but in practice, science shows that’s not true. It’s not true because the brain gets used to anything – good and bad. For instance, when you buy a new iPhone, it’s fun for a while because it has cool new features, a better camera, etc., but then you just get used to it. It’s not the exciting, shiny thing it once was. It’s just your phone.
I feel happier looking at this kid. OMG so cute! Photo by frank mckenna on Unsplash
“We kind of get that with material objects, but we forget that with big life changes,” Dr. Santos says. “You get this new promotion, or you get a new salary, or you get into a relationship. At first, yeah, it’s amazing, but then over time, you just get used to it. And this is hedonic adaptation; all the best things in life, we kind of just get used to over time.”
Not only do we get used to the best things in life and forget how easily we acclimate, but we also have a built-in mechanism telling us we’d be happier with more. That’s what dopamine, the happiness molecule, seeks: more Instagram followers, more gadgets, more money, more. In my spiritual philosophy, we say every human being has a thirst for limitlessness. Even when a person has a lot, they still want more. Clay Cockrell is a wealth psychologist to the 0.0001% and found even those people are miserable because instead of being satisfied with enough, they’ll say, “I have $500 million, but I’m not a billionaire.” The millionaire wants to be a billionaire and a billionaire wants to be a trillionaire.
My spiritual teacher says:
“However great may be the wealth of attainment, it cannot satisfy the hunger of the human mind, which always yearns for unlimited happiness. Those who run after wealth and reputation, name and fame, can never be happy unless they can attain an infinite quantity of the same. But because the world itself is finite, how can the objects of this world be infinite? Besides, it is not materially possible to acquire objects of an unlimited quantity. So worldly achievement – even if it is the acquisition of the whole globe – is neither unlimited nor eternal.”
I’ll address the desire for infinity shortly but to go back to happiness research, Dr. Santos says to change your reference point so that you look down, not up. Instead of comparing yourself to someone who is better off than you, compare yourself to someone worse off. It could also be the “you” from a different time or circumstance. Comparing down elicits gratitude, which increases happiness.
Santos also says we’re terrible at prioritizing the things that make us happy. When we’re stressed with work, the first thing we drop is a yoga class with a friend, but socializing makes us happier. When we’re tired, we scroll Netflix, but we’d be better off playing on Duolingo, a language-learning app. It’s for that reason I have a 734-day streak on Duolingo. I’m committed to my happiness y’all. And if you want to follow me there, I’m @kfpixie.
The biggest thing I’ve learned from Dr. Santos, and that I have to remind myself of frequently, is happiness is a daily activity. There is no arrival or destination. You don’t publish a bestselling book and then feel happy forever. It’s the day-to-day behavior that affects our overall happiness. Part of that day-to-day behavior, which Santos addresses in a later episode, is a spiritual practice. When I meditate, I’m touching into something infinite and quenching that thirst for limitlessness. It’s the way I’m able to satisfy the part of me that endlessly craves more. At least sometimes.
Part of being happier, right now, also involves recognizing our moods change, our circumstances change, and it’s unrealistic to think we’ll feel Happy with a capital H all the time. But that doesn’t mean we can’t move the needle to happier. It just takes some effort.
I dream of a world where we remember happiness is a behavior, not a destination. A world where we understand the material world will never satisfy our desires because we’ll always crave more. A world where we point ourselves to something greater than us to satisfy that craving. A world where we do what we can to be happier now.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
An emotion I feel frequently is frustration and it’s usually because people and situations aren’t moving as fast as I’d like. I don’t mean literally – I’m not a speed demon – I mean in terms of actions. A frequent complaint I have is, “Why is this taking so long?” That’s everything from a person returning my telephone call to becoming a bestselling author. I want everything yesterday. The whole “waiting” thing is a ripoff, if you ask me. Given my penchant for moving quickly, it should be no surprise that the universe gives me plenty of opportunities to practice patience.
I’ve written dozens of posts about patience over the years, including most recently on New Year’s Eve when I wrote about the future unfolding. I know that things bloom when they’re ready and we’re looking at our watches while God is looking at the calendar. But even with all those posts, I still want things to move quickly! This might also be a good time to mention it’s taken me three times as long to write this post as my other ones and that even writing a post about it being OK to go slow, I want to go fast.
I’m struggling with what to say but when I let my writing flow in the form of a letter, the words poured out. Here’s a letter to me from my Great Self but maybe your Great Self wants you to hear it too:
“I know you want everything yesterday. I know nothing moves as quickly as you’d like. You see the end-game, you know how things could be. It’s one of your gifts to dream, to imagine. It’s the creative spark that lives within you seeking expression. You have an active mind and that’s one of the best things about you.
“It’s easy for you to make big jumps, to go from A to Z very quickly but not everyone else is like that. Other people need to take baby steps. They need to move slower. They need time for their brains and bodies to catch up. It’s OK for you to match their pace, it’s OK for you to go slow. It’s OK for you to rest and relax and know that everything is going exactly as it should at the pace it should.
If you’re going at a snail’s pace, that’s OK too. Photo by Olivier Piau on Unsplash
“You aren’t alone, you aren’t doing all this by yourself. It’s not your self-will that’s making things happen. It’s you matching the universal, Cosmic rhythm. It’s you syncing your desires with the Cosmic desires. It’s the outside world pouring into you, supporting you.
“When you want to rush, think about the natural world. You may want to harvest blueberries right now but you have to wait for a bud, then a bloom, then a blueberry. The natural world knows how to move slowly. It’s the human world that does not. It’s people who say you should have this accomplished by this age and if you don’t, you’re a failure. It’s the human world that touts overnight successes and doesn’t honor the people who write four books before they publish a bestseller. It’s the human world that tells you that you should be moving at a pace other than the one you’re moving at.
“All of nature is here telling you it’s OK to go slow, that you can take all the time you need. Rest, be gentle with yourself, and know there’s nothing shameful or wrong about incrementally working toward the things you want. That’s usually how it happens.
“Remember that your spiritual teacher says, ‘Suppose, immediately after planting some saplings and seeds, someone digs them up to find out if they have taken root or sprouted. That would not be considered wise.’
“Sometimes you have to wait for your desires to be expressed, but there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s natural and the way the world works. You’re doing great and even though you don’t believe it, all is well, my dear, all is well. Go as slow as you need to go and let other people go slowly too. What is meant for you will not run past you. Trust that.”
I dream of a world where we remember it’s humans who tell us to rush and go as fast as possible. A world where we understand nature models slow and steady progress. A world where we recognize it can take a while for our dreams and desires to sprout but that doesn’t mean they aren’t blossoming. A world where we remind ourselves it’s OK to go slow.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m a big fan of plans. I like organization and structure because it helps me to relax and feel safe. (But that’s not to say I hate spontaneity because I don’t. One of my favorite things is when someone calls me and says, “Hey, I’m in your neighborhood. Are you free?”) Given my feelings about plans, it should be no surprise that I make a lot of them: plans for events and also my life.
This past week though, boy, am I feeling the punchline of that joke, “How do you make God laugh? Tell Her your plans.” Nearly all of my plans were scuppered, dashed, and any other word you can think of that means “didn’t work.” It was everything from telephone calls to housesitting. The amount I had to pivot this past week was astounding. When these things don’t work out, I feel frustrated, disappointed, and depending on the situation, despair.
I have to remind myself that Love has a plan for me (and it has a plan for you, too). Here are two small examples of how I know that’s true. I was supposed to housesit on Tuesday and Wednesday but the homeowners canceled last minute. I had already made tentative plans that hinged on being at their place so I was of course disappointed. But you know what happened? On Wednesday, I felt a searing pain in my hip that I hadn’t experienced in years. I spent the afternoon lying in bed watching Netflix. In other words, it was a blessing that I wasn’t in a stranger’s home scavenging for a heating pad and painkillers.
It may not seem like it, but Love has a plan for you. Photo by Khadeeja Yasser on Unsplash
On Thursday, I woke up about two hours earlier than I normally do, which meant I also napped two hours earlier than I usually do. (For the unfamiliar, I can’t keep my eyes open four hours after I wake up.) An HVAC guy was scheduled to come to my house between 1 and 5 p.m. but he showed up early at 12:15, right when I’d normally be napping. If I hadn’t woken up earlier in the day unintentionally, and thus napped earlier, I would have missed him completely.
When you live with the truth that Love has a plan for you, something interesting happens. Tosha Silver says it best in her book Outrageous Openness:
“You begin to feel on a cellular level that things are unfolding exactly in the way that they should. At the rate and timing they need. You start to trust the process. You relax from the endless pushing that most of us learned at birth. On some fundamental, mysterious level, you just let go …. [Y]ou relax into this calm curiosity about where the flow might go. You’re detached yet somehow riveted by how the story will unfold. You feel spaciously receptive and open to what wishes to come.”
I’m not saying I have this mastered by any means. I do love my plans, after all, but I’m trying. I keep turning to Love and saying, “You know what’s best for me. Align my will with your will. Help me to know and trust that everything is unfolding exactly as it should.” For someone like me, this is INCREDIBLY difficult but fighting the plan Love has for me is like fighting the tide and anyway, I’ve seen over and over again that Love knows better than I do.
I dream of a world where we realize that things are unfolding in exactly the way they should. A world where we understand when things don’t happen how we’d like there might be a very good reason for it. A world where we let go and relax into a calm curiosity about what will happen next. A world where we remember even when it doesn’t seem like it, Love has a plan for us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I love astrology for many reasons but one of them is that it offers me perspective. Starting in 2008, Pluto entered the sign of Capricorn and proceeded to show us the dark underbelly of themes associated with that sign: money and power, primarily. We’ve seen corruption in the banking industry, politics, the judicial system, and more. The evils of white supremacy and patriarchy have stared us in the face. That’s not to say some people weren’t talking about these things before 2008, because they were, but when Pluto moved into Capricorn, these issues became mainstream.
What we’re seeing now is the last gasp of that old way of being, embodied by Donald Trump. He is a convicted felon, a white supremacist, and a perpetrator of violence against women. Oh, and he wants to be the next king of the United States. Whereas in years past people were more secretive about these things, now it’s all out in the open. As you likely know, on July 26 Trump said, “Christians, get out and vote, just this time. You won’t have to do it anymore, you know what? Four more years, it’ll be fixed. It’ll be fine. You won’t have to vote anymore my beautiful Christians.”
A new day is dawning. Photo by Austin Schmid on Unsplash
So that’s terrifying. But you know what gives me hope? That Pluto is moving into Aquarius. Pluto in Aquarius says, “Screw top-down hierarchy – give me bottom-up! Power to the people, baby!” Whereas the dark side of Pluto in Capricorn is a consolidation of power, just as Trump is displaying, Pluto in Aquarius is about empowering the individual. It says, “You do you. Let your freak flag fly, honey!”
Zooming out gives me hope that we’re heading in a positive direction and it supports the sentiments of my spiritual teacher who says:
“There are some people who are pessimistic. They say that the society around us is very bleak … Pessimists say this because they have never made any detailed study of human history, nor do they care to. Had they done so, they would certainly be optimistic, because if they had looked carefully at the symptoms of pause, they would have realized that significant preparations were being made for the subsequent phase of speed. So under no circumstances should human beings be pessimistic. That is why I am always an incorrigible optimist because I know that optimism is life.”
Optimism is life and I’m choosing to keep living. That means that while some people’s words and behavior are appalling and terrifying, I’m choosing to believe things can and do get better. That we’re entering a new era. This post is very quote-heavy but I’m going to share another one from my spiritual teacher because he says it better than I can:
“Just as the advent of the purple dawn is inevitable at the end of the cimmerian darkness of the interlunar night, exactly in the same way I know that a gloriously brilliant chapter will also come after the endless reproach and humiliation of the neglected humanity of today.
“Those who love humanity and those who desire the welfare of living beings should be vigorously active from this very moment, after shaking off all lethargy and sloth, so that the most auspicious hour arrives at the earliest.”
I’m doing what I can so that the auspicious hour arrives sooner rather than later and I hope that you are too because together we can bring about the dawning of a new age.
I dream of a world where we remember that nothing lasts forever. A world where we understand even corruption gets stamped out eventually. A world where we realize that optimism is life. A world where we all work together to bring about the dawning of a new age.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This morning I dreamed a seashell the size of a baby whale was sucked back into the ocean, despite my best efforts. I held on to the rim of the seashell and tried to swim back to shore with it. Two-story waves kept crashing over my head leaving me gasping for air. Eventually, I gave up because I knew if I didn’t let go, the riptide would pull me so far away from shore that I wouldn’t be able to swim back and I’d drown. I released the shell and crawled back to the beach exhausted, relieved, and disappointed as this shell I’d wanted so badly slipped further and further away from me.
I’m sure there are many layers to unpack with the dream but I’m going to share about the most obvious. It’s hard for me to let go. I will literally water a dead plant. The way this shows up in my relationships is I’ll keep holding on long past the point where it’s wise. I may not have heard from someone in months but I’ll still text them and say, “Hey, it’s been a while. Let’s catch up,” or, “I’d love to see you soon. Are you busy next week?” Despite not hearing anything in return, I’ll try again.
I do this because when I love someone, I really love them. I forgive them for their flaws, show understanding for what they’re going through, and accept however they want to show up in the relationship. I do this because I focus on the good times, the times we were close, the times when the relationship was working, and so it’s hard for me to accept the current reality where I have no clue what’s happening in their lives. It’s painful, really painful. What helps me is remembering that just because the relationship is dead doesn’t mean it didn’t matter.
Jung said, “The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.” We were both transformed and on my end, every relationship leaves a mark. I wrote about this in my unpublished romantic comedy. The main character is talking about romantic love in the quote I’m about to share but the sentiment applies to every sort of love. I’ve changed the wording a bit so it fits with this blogpost:
“She expected falling in love to feel like a bomb – explosive, undeniable, irrevocably changing everything. Instead, falling in love was more like a leaky bathroom faucet, the slow and steady drip of water eventually wearing away the porcelain until it left an indelible mark. For better or for worse, the person now had a permanent space just for them.”
Sometimes that permanent space is like a scar, a reminder of what was, and other times that permanent space is like an internal organ, active and functioning. I often long for the scars to turn into organs but they very rarely do.
I opened this post writing about letting go and that’s what I’m doing here. I’m acknowledging most scars remain scars and longing for what was doesn’t serve anyone. Who I am in the present moment deserves to spend time with other people who make an effort for me in the present moment. Otherwise, it’s like I’m holding on to a giant seashell that’s destined for the ocean.
I dream of a world where we’re able to let go of old relationships and the dreams we had for those relationships. A world where we understand everyone we love has a permanent space in our psyches but sometimes that space is a scar. A world where we recognize sometimes the best thing we can do for ourselves is let someone go.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Francis Weller writes in his book The Wild Edge of Sorrow that on a trip to Burkina Faso, he remarked to one woman that she had a lot of joy. Her response was, “That’s because I cry a lot.” I keep thinking about that because I notice sometimes the people who are the most joyful, vibrant, and alive are also the most depressed and even suicidal.
This is on my mind because a friend of mine died suddenly about a week ago and I suspect it was a suicide based on the abruptness and also how his family hasn’t mentioned the cause of death. But just in case I’m wrong, I’m not going to name him publicly and instead write about someone I can: Robin Williams.
If you’ve seen any movies or interviews with Robin Williams, you know he was a wacky delight. Julie Kavner, best known as the voice of Marge Simpson, said in a Guardian article, “When we were making Awakenings, we were filming in the deserted part of a mental hospital, and often shooting through the night. And there was this TV in the corner on mute, and Robin, between breaks during the scenes, would go off on a riff, inventing dialogue on the TV show, entertaining everyone at 3 a.m., whatever time. It was a very tough role that he did a phenomenal amount of research for, but he didn’t keep to himself between takes – he was out there, giving to everyone.”
I hope you are held like this. Photo by The HK Photo Company on Unsplash
Williams was the life of the party and yet he committed suicide, shocking everyone. It turns out he had a form of dementia that essentially caused his brain to fall apart so who knows how much was the disease versus depression but even still. This man who was so capable of bringing joy to others suffered so greatly that he decided he couldn’t keep living. I have trouble wrapping my mind around that and posed the question on Facebook about the dichotomy.
One person responded that she was often the life of the party because she was compensating for depression. She was trying so hard not to be depressed, to not show people how low she felt that she put on a mask to hide it. But she also said she wished more people would talk about how they felt to normalize it, to know they don’t have to hide.
I can’t say this to my friend or to Robin Williams, but I can say it to you. I know what it’s like to be in the shadows and also the light. I’ve traversed both spaces and there’s nothing wrong with either. You don’t have to hide or pretend with me. You can take off your mask and let me know how you’re really feeling because I’m not scared to hold space for whatever is alive in you. Human beings are complicated and complex. Every part of you – the parts you’re proud of, the parts you’re ashamed of, the parts you’re scared of – all of them are welcome whether you share them with me or not.
Weller says, “Life is hard, filled with loss and suffering. Life is glorious, stunning, and incomparable. To deny either truth is to live in some fantasy of the ideal or to be crushed by the weight of pain. Instead, both are true, and it requires a familiarity with both sorrow and joy to fully encompass the full range of being human.”
I seek to encompass the full range of being human and that means I’m holding both light and shadow because I know neither can exist without the other.
I dream of a world where we take off our masks and express how we truly feel. A world where we recognize people want to know the real us, warts and all. A world where we remember authenticity is usually met with care. A world where we know both light and shadow exist in all of us and being human means holding both.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Cycles are on my mind because things from my past are looping back. I ran into someone I hadn’t seen in seven years. The clothing from when I was a teenager is making a comeback. We’re again having a Trump/Biden showdown. I can’t seem to articulate what I want to convey about all this so instead I’m resharing a post from September 2023. That means I’m not currently migrating old pictures, nor is it Mercury retrograde, but my overarching point is still relevant. Enjoy.
Right now, I’m migrating old pictures from my phone to my computer. In part, it’s to create more space but it’s also because I’m in the mood to clean and clear. In other words, I’m acting very much in line with Mercury retrograde, which is the time to reflect, reassess, and remove. Anything that begins with “re” is an appropriate Mercury retrograde activity.
What’s interesting is that instead of looking at the photos with wistfulness and nostalgia like I usually do, I’m struck with the parallels between then and now. My pictures from 2015 and 2016 show me with friends, visiting beautiful places in nature, flying to different states to attend weddings, and smiling with my meditation community. You might say, “That’s always what your pictures show. That’s nothing new,” and while there is consistency, 2015 and 2016 also held an excitement, a verve to my life that I haven’t felt in a long time.
In the ensuing eight years, the community I built broke apart, people moved away, relationships changed, and I didn’t have excitement or verve anymore. I was in a different cycle of life. But here I am, with a resurgence of verve and excitement. I’m meeting new people left and right, I’m building community, and there’s more energy. It’s as if the wheel of life turned once more and I’m re-experiencing a similar pattern.
Life is like a spiral, not a line. Photo by Ansgar Scheffold on Unsplash
As if to underscore my point, an enormous dragonfly whizzed by my window while writing this. I haven’t seen a dragonfly where I live for years and I regularly stare out the window. According to animal shamanism, “Dragonfly reminds you that change is the only constant in life. When dragonflies surround you, change is on the horizon …. Dragonfly can also be a positive omen indicating you are ready for a change to take shape in your life. Be flexible and adapt to evolving circumstances and you can progress in ways you haven’t imagined.”
So often when I think of change, I think of linear progress, of being transported to somewhere I’ve never been before. But today I’m realizing change is cyclical, just like everything in nature. We have day becoming night, spring becoming summer, and the moon waxing and waning over and over again. Human beings are embedded in nature, we are not separate from it so it makes sense that our changes would also be cyclical.
Change is the only constant in life, which is why my spiritual teacher says, “Here in the universe, nothing is stationary, nothing is fixed. Everything moves; that’s why this universe is called jagat. Movement is its dharma; movement is its innate characteristic.”
We are also moving and sometimes that movement is a spiral. It seems like we’re in the same place, but as with a spiral staircase, we aren’t exactly. We’re circling back, but we’re approaching the situation with a new perspective from a similar place.
I dream of a world where we recognize we are always moving and changing. A world where we understand just as nature has its cycles, we do too. A world where we realize change isn’t linear, progressing in a straight line, but more like a spiral shifting us to a similar, but slightly different place every time. A world where we understand things circle back.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.