I clearly feel the transformation. It’s slow but hot. Smokey and non-linear. 

 

I can’t help but seeing the opportunity that this crisis holds in its hands. “Here,” It says. “It’s not gonna seem like a gift. In fact, there’s gonna be some hell to burn through. But if you seize the opportunity, and unwrap the outer layers, and after a lot of suffering for a lot of people, you will unpack the box, you will find some new seeds in it. But wait! You can’t yet plant. You will need to till the soil. And you will need to work hard to detoxify it, because, well, you’ve done quite a number on it. So it’s gonna take time. And patience. And hard work. Lots of effort. It will also become a gateway into a softer space. Then, when you’re ready for reciprocity, with her blessing and permission, you may plant. You will be able to grow a new way of being. And this will produce a healthier, more fulfilling, less stressful, less aggressive, more grounded sense of living. Maybe you already feel those seeds germinating in your soul?”

 

But then I feel unsure about humanity’s capability to do the work. I wish I trusted our species more. But I’m not one of them optimistic folks. 

 

It comes at me in waves. Waves of hope. And waves of grim defeat. My spirit crushes to the ground in despair. But then it soars back up and revels in the grandness of the opportunity. I see it. I feel it. It’s right here. So prevalent. 

 

Ambivalence.

 

Uncertainty rises with every breath. It’s filled with possibility – inspiring and terrifying. Will this change the world in the ways that Mother Earth is begging for? Or will greed and selfishness win the final battle, and tip us into the apocalypse? Are we gonna divide further and further, become less and less for the greater good, and more and more for self interest? Or Will we become more caring towards one another? More respectful? More generous?  

 

Ambiguity. 

 

It might not be just one path that opens up. More than one thing is possible. More than one thing is real. Conflicting realities co-exist. More than one truth can be true. 

 

On the one hand – stardust consciousness. 

 

On the other hand – shit is not just a fertilizer, it’s also just stinky shit.  

 

It comes in waves. The chilling out and the chilling facts. Being patient and understanding. And being fucking righteous. The love for not rushing. And the rush to make sure this time is valuable. 

 

It comes in surges. Like the contractions of labor. Expanding. Painful. Opening. Pushing. Information pulses in my cells, communicating through sensations and images and ancient, ancestral memories that live in my bones and in my DNA, resurfacing and whispering familiar yet totally unknown songs. Receiving the unarticulated knowledge. Rising. Peaking. Slowing down. And then again. Something wants to be birthed.

 

Things fall away. Cleansing. Clearing. 

 

Tenderness vibrates from within. 

 

My imperfections seem extra well defined. 

 

Humanity’s imperfection is bumping into my own flaws.

 

Breathing.

 

Waves of love and openness and acceptance.

 

Breathing.

 

Waves of assholeism hitting shore.

 

It comes in through the push and pull between uncertainty and stubbornness. The vulnerability of not knowing much, and the uncompromised sense of knowing something. 

 

There’s an out-of-controlness. Some people can’t stand it. Others hear it as the call to rewild. 

 

It comes in through the breath and commingles with my blood. Sometimes a surprising visitor. Other times a good old familiar friend. The thought patterns. The emotional reactions.  

 

It comes in waves. Hashtag: Homeschool Forever. And Hashtag: Shoot me now! Earth goddess mama. And motherfucking mean mommy extraordinaire.

 

It moves through me like a serpent. Undulating. It rolls in my mud. And I pulse with the pace it wants to take me.

 

Some waves big. Some waves gentle.

 

It flows in and pours out. Cycling through my system fast. In and out and in again. The hope and the pessimism. The jaded jerk, and the inspired insight. 

 

Ambiguity.

 

Waves of sureness. Waves of trust. Waves of groundedness, and waves of all over the place.

 

And between all those waves, I’m changing. New me. Old bones. Fresh outlook. Old wounds. Mothering. Aging. Releasing. Renewal. Spirling. Circling. 

 

Waves of woven together complexity and simplicity. Complex existence – layers and levels and compartments and components. Simpler living (PLEASE!) 

 

Climbing up a steep staircase of growth. Sliding down into the depth of the galaxy. 

 

Recognizing my own flaws. Learning to love myself through my fractured self image.

 

I’m changing. The world is changing. I hear the words: “going back to normal” and I cringe. Normal wasn’t good. Time to change. Change comes in patterns and waves. Up. And down. And circling around. 

 

”Don’t stress. “ I tell myself. “It’s not fast enough.” I answer. “This whole thing isn’t teaching you to slow down?” I wonder. “That’s the main thing I gotta change.” I realize. 

 

So I take a slower breath. And I give myself the message. 

 

Slow down.

 

Slow down. 

 

Slow down.