Sonder season
and slipping on the ice
I feel a complicated sort of aliveness right now. Who doesn’t, I guess. But I do feel rather in and out of body rapid-fire style as I adjust to the changing of the guards, so to speak. Over the last two months there have been significant communication breakdowns and breakthroughs, a large creative eruption, many invitations into world-shifting intimacy, and refusal after refusal to self-abandon. It’s one of those seasons where whenever you sit in a cafe you look around at all the folks sipping their coffees and dissolving into their projects and you feel both completely separate yet entirely familiar with the limitless patterns of language and shape. You wonder how you fit in and you also feel inextricably tethered to it all. You feel a kindred spirit with how utterly human it all is and you also can’t quite recognize what your life has become and what on earth you are and where everything might go. I’m trying really hard to live with curiosity in this in-between space, and even more importantly I’m trying to have hope here. Hope is so massive and mysterious. It can feel very dangerous. It bumps up against all the internal narratives we carry about what we can and cannot have or who we are or aren’t and it begs us to step bravely over the threshold into trust, which can feel like carrying a sack of bricks everywhere that keeps scraping and bruising your body.
The nicest thing is if you can really relax into hope and trust the bricks actually dissolve and you’re left with excitement, which is a really lovely and inspiring feeling.
I’m going through several abrupt life changes right now that are in conflict with many of the stories I hold about myself yet are also in great relationship to many dreams I’ve held onto for years. I’m experiencing a lot of shame and guilt while also feeling intensely proud of the work I’ve done to redirect my self-defeating habits and patterns. I may be losing one of the most important people in my life and I’ve also at the same time miraculously attracted the most secure relationship I’ve ever had. I’ve been oscillating so strongly between grieving and celebrating.
How do you talk about and acknowledge deep heartbreak while also moving through a significant heart-opening? Or vice-versa? It almost feels wrong to name that I’m having both of these experiences at once, like one is betraying the other. I’m mourning the loss of something that I don’t want to let go of, that much of my heart is directly refusing to release (and I’m not even sure if I should), while also embracing something else with fullness and vulnerability as I allow it to reveal itself to me with time and grace and patience. I think the real gift here is that it is all speaking volumes to me about the heart’s capacity, which is such a relieving and reliable thought in the middle of all this shape-shifting debris. We are so spacious and capable. We are alive, damnit. Let’s be alive and have it all. Let’s be uncomfortable while also remembering to name the many ways in which our needs are met and we are taken care of. I think it’s really easy when something is going wrong to pigeon-hole ourselves in that energy and refuse any aspects of our reality that oppose it. That is, it’s outrageously easy to hyper-fixate on what feels “bad” or challenging and forget that there is another 90% of our life to remember and engage with, so I am always interested in creating more dialogue around holding both.
Make space for what hurts and also remember that that’s not all of the space you have. Wrap yourself in your grief and know that it has precious information to pass along to you, and then reach out your hand and water the plants in your room, slowly eat a piece of fruit, and tell your nearest and dearest that you need validation (and let them give it to you). We were built for this.
Sitting between grief and exhilaration makes me feel like a fawn, like that scene in Bambi when he’s sliding around on the ice. It’s made me feel intensely raw and new. It’s heightened my senses and pushed me to be extra vocal about what I’m feeling good or bad about, like a baby babbling, just trying to make sense of it all and grasp some sort of clear communication. But maybe I can’t have a full language for what’s happening right now because I’ve never been here, and I guess that has to be part of the fun and the aliveness. For example, I recently spoke up at work and told them I want a different job in the company because I’m not satisfied and I feel as if I’ve reached a point where I’m ready to teach and share my knowledge and they actually listened. So now I’m wobbling around trying to live up to the powerful image I’ve set in place, and while I’m wobbling I’m starting to realize that I actually can do all the things I’ve said I can do. I’m wobbling into sturdiness week by week. The same is true of my current relationship: it’s moved quickly, which initially made me feel nervous about repeating a pattern, but I’ve spoken my needs and fears and hopes into existence every step of the way and I’ve taken consistent space and I’ve allowed myself to receive for the first time. Because of this new sturdiness — a confidence in the work I’ve done to build something that expands rather than contracts — and committing to that experience of health and reciprocity, it’s flowing and moving in a way that makes me feel held and capable. I’m finding myself trusting the process of being in relationship rather than losing myself in it because I fear it. And I think that feeling/process also applies to the job, and maybe most importantly — to just being in the world in general.
I spent a long time being afraid of myself and my own life, fearing my own impulses and habits and the repetition of trauma and hurting people I love and the constant shame that accompanied all of those things. I’m now finding myself in a place where I am not as afraid anymore and what’s taken its place is a voice that says, “Really? Now? This? Finally?” and I am that Pulp Fiction gif of John Travolta looking around as if to say, what gives? What the fuck’s going on here? Just another part of the path, I guess. Another chance for me to choose curiosity, and certainly an opportunity for me to rise to the occasion and find out what happens if I keep trusting myself. What a notion.
Things that have helped/moved me lately:
Pulling a year-long tarot spread as a guidepost for what to focus on each month and how to engage with the world
Prioritizing going to sleep early every night and not caring if I miss out on anything
Making my bed every morning
Stepping outside to hear the birds whenever I feel overwhelmed
Making strong eye contact with everyone
Drinking tea with meadowsweet in it, an herb that smells and tastes like the land I grew up on
The album angel in realtime. by Gang of Youths
Laughing with reckless abandon
Tracking my cycle and planning things around when I know I’ll have life and energy vs. when I’ll be very tired and moody
Saying no when I really don’t want to do something and yes when I know my younger self would take the risk
It’s never too late to return to yourself. I hope you find yourself feeling more available to life in the next month, and I hope you surprise yourself with how strong and creative you are. You deserve it.
Til next time. Love you.