I wake up in the mornings and I wonder – how could this dystopian sci-fi novel that we are living through get any crazier? There’s no way! And then it does. Every day holds another ridiculous twist in the plot, which makes this book seem so over the top. And then the psycho, comic book villain, ridiculous orange monster from the sewers is put on steroids. I mean… 


Some days I feel drained. Like nothing is left in me to keep on keeping on. Some days I am hit by sparks of inspiration, that promise to carry me through. I am with despair and with hope, riding this dragon into the caves of Fire Mountain, not sure who I will be on the other side, after I burn and melt to liquid in the flames. 


On the Hero’s Journey, we are certainly not in the Ordinary World. Maybe we don’t have to try to make our way back to the known or the ordinary. Maybe this is our chance to create a new world. Either way, if we survive this adventure, the worst thing that could happen is if we come out of this unchanged. 


This is not comfortable. It’s not pretty. It’s not convenient. It’s not safe. And yet here we are. Are we going to hang on for dear life to the false sense of whatever that was before, or are we up for the ride down into the underworld, where every particle of being will be reexamined and repurposed? Are we going to try to avoid the wild winds that scatter our pieces all over the cosmos? Or are we going to embrace the underground scene we must face on this journey of transformation, where the shadow is our teacher, and the edge is our core? Are we going to strive for purity and perfection and block any avenue of progress if it doesn’t line up with our ideals? Or are we going to accommodate and make it work and do our best, and leave room for mistakes and failures, so that we can not only survive, but thrive?


This is our moment. Our moment to step up and take a stance. And step down to pass the mic. To be strong and grounded and intentional. It’s our moment to be softer than we’ve ever been with ourselves. To fall apart so that we can rebuild. To break down so that we can break through. This is our moment to reorient. To do things that challenge us for the sake of something greater than ourselves. This is our moment to rise and fall and reemerge. Our moment to remember what matters most. 


Are you in the fire? 


I’m writing this at the end of a “What The Fuck?” kind of a day. Every cell in my body is drenched in what the fuckness. From that second grade handwork class on zoom, where my girl and I wanted to stick the knitting needle in the computer camera’s eye, break a window, and ride our broomsticks out into the open air. But the air quality was so bad, we had to stay indoors. All day. And my own work falling to pieces. And the race against time – meal after meal, laundry load after laundry load. And more shit shows from the White house. Some days are too intense. Too Stressful. Too much. When I cringe to the sound of: “Mama!” and the answer that wants to come out of my mouth is: “I’m not here!” I know the day has crossed a line. I know that I’ve over scheduled myself. I know that my expectations of myself were not realistic. I know that sleep deprivation is in the driver’s seat. And I know that we have to VOTE him out! 


There are days that make me want to hide under a blanket, sweep the feelings under a rug, and cleanse my soul in holy waters.  


Let. It. Allllllllllll. Go.


But where do things go when we let them go?


This is the season. We are deepening into Fall. Some trees are whispering goodbye to the leaves they have been clothed in. We might hear the call to release, to unbind, to set free that which no longer expresses who we are, that which no longer belongs in our arms, that which doesn’t serve us anymore. We want clarity. We feel the need to clean up. 


We can clean things up all day long. We can cleanse until we feel light as air, made of pure golden shimmering light. But dirt always comes back. Vacuum the house today. Dust bunnies will hop around again tomorrow. Clean the dishes. Clean again. Laundry only means more laundry.


There’s a difference between cleansing and transforming. 


Transformation is the ability to change, to move things around, to shift an outlook, to cross from one form to another. We don’t get rid of things. We learn to put everything to use. Every speck of dust, every dark moment, every shitty day – we use it all – each is an ingredient in a spell of becoming who we are, and expanding who we want to be. Every unwanted piece is a sacred component in the process of weaving together a life worth living. 


The trees release the acorns, the apples, and the leaves. They all fall to the earth. The earth receives them all. The acorn will become food for the chipmunks. The apple will decay, nourishing birds and bugs. Or maybe, just maybe, one day they will become new trees. For a long while, the dry blanket of leaves will cover the soil and keep moisture beneath it. It will look to us like nothing is happening. They will nourish her as they break down. They’ll fall apart as they fall deeper into her womb. And they will do so without rushing. Compost is not an immediate gratification process. Transformation takes its time.  


We are allowed to fall apart. And we need to allow the process. Patient. Pissed off. Powerful. Progress can’t be measured in straight lines. It’s cyclical, serpentine, and spiralic. It’s hot and messy and uncomfortable. In the ferocity of this process we can breathe the truth of intensity with the vision of inspiration. We remold and reshape who we are by using the heat and working through stuckness. We will put ourselves together. And we will never be the same. We can become the army of the dead – unwilling to die we might be consumed by the darkness of our time – refusing to self reflect, to do the inner work, to consciously change. Or we can become the Kintsugi Troopers – broken, and put together again with gold pouring through the seams. 


What do you need from yourself this week in order to engage in transformation? Do you feel the need to increase the heat to meet the intensity and utilize it? Try Breath Of Fire with Agni Mudra – tip of thumb to the knuckle of the ring finger that is the closest to the ring (check it out in the picture above). Do you need to calm your nervous system? Try Supta Badhha Konasana – lie down on the ground, bring the soles of your feet together, let your knees open up to the sides (if that’s too much on your hips/knees you can place blocks or thick books under your knees for extra support), place your hands on your lower belly, and breathe slowly. 


We are in this fire together. You are not alone. Take good care of yourself and your loved ones as we ride these intense waves. 


And tell me, dear one, how are you transforming? Please do share in the comments below.


Lots of love,