transformation in the dark

reflections on themes of the times, here in the growing light of late winter

Energetic Read + Forecast

moving us into and through February

This whole winter has really emphasized being with ourselves within. The winter is always associated with gestation and rest, but it’s somehow more amplified this season. I know in my own life there’s been a huge retraction—pulling away from going out as much, not wanting or really even having the energy to expend in such an outward way. December especially was a strong moth of leaning into Hermitude, into being with myself and observing the thoughts + patterns rising up from within me.

I—you—we—us are moving through huge shifts in identity. It is as though the solar plexus (very much your sense-of-self, your internal fire, your confidence and belief in YOU) is meeting with a great harbinger of change + revolution. And this end of January + movement into February is calling for a similar kind of gentleness, though from a different catalyst.

The themes right now are massive, large-scale change. Externally, sure, but more importantly: on the inside. What you want and why you want it are transforming.

And how are new things able to enter our life?

As we let go of others. There has to be space for these transitions to come in and land. And if we’re not allowing + making that space! Then it will be taken from us.

And like anything else, the more you resist, holding on kicking + screaming to former ideas of who you were, what you wanted, where you thought you were heading, where you expected to be by now, relationships and people who don’t pull you into + support you as the highest version of yourself—you will be dragged by them. Because they are leaving. They’re being phased out by the direction your heart is leading you.

With all of this, of course, comes a lot that looks + feels like loss. That looks + feels like grief.

But we must remember that everything which crosses our path—and that which consequently leaves—is leading us to better + happier versions of ourselves. Regardless of what it is!

Every event, every small moment, every catastrophe, every sleepy lonely evening. It’s all drawing us toward a life that is more expansive and full of the things we truly want to live and experience. And the amazing wonderful things you don’t even know yet that you want. And that which is completely unimaginable to us now. So often what we actually end up getting is beyond our fantasies. All these are able to come to us because we learn our lessons. We start making different choices, even if they’re small. And our paths diverge again and again. Over and over. In ways we never could have predicted, and maybe in ways we’d avoid if we could see the future. But all we can do is trust. All we can do is believe we are doing our best, and course-correct if the time comes. And maybe do some free-falling into a whole new unknown.

We hold all these things at once. The excitement for what newness we may be wandering into come spring. For the experimentation that comes when we drop labels and former understandings of self. Our next circle of community. All of this, alongside the grief of letting go. As Walt Whitman would say (and one of the only quotes I ever really think about), “Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes.”

And the human experience is all about these multitudes. I find again and again what I’m learning is how to honor many of them simultaneously. Take that time for yourself to understand better who you are now. What is that you want, now?

We have one of these conversations, maybe years ago, say, alright, thanks self! I’m going to orient us in that direction now—towards whatever goal or desire we felt at the time—and then move sometimes blindly and boorishly (and/or quite stubbornly) towards it.

So offer yourself grace. Forgive yourself for changing, forgive those around you for the same. Our circles are shifting, we’ll begin weaving our webs in new spaces. Whether also literally and physically, or simply emotionally and internally. We are exhaling. We are inhaling. Maybe we’re hyperventilating a bit, even. Be sure to do some laughing, too.

Writing & (of course) reflection are incredible ways to tap into what is happening within you. Because as easy as it is to forget, we are not that constant stream of chatter within ourselves. Those thoughts float up, trying to offer something, letting us know how we’re doing on the inside. But those thoughts are not who we are. They are not definite, and they do not get the final say. We can observe, and work with what arises. And seeing it on the page is like really giving birth to it. Giving it form

Maybe reflect on—

• What is that I want in my daily experience?

• What do I no longer want to experience?

• What am I so, so grateful for?

Last night I began an exercise in gratitude. I wrote in detail about where I was this time last year (month 3 of 5 living in India. WHEW. Talk about contradictions and multitudes). And then I began writing about what I see in my life now, the plenty + blessings I’ve been overlooking. And let me tell you, beginning from the most simple, there was so much. Being warm (lovvvvve the wood stove!! love fire!!), clean water, a washing machine, a better relationship with my body, my sexual expression, having a home, feeling more like myself, establishing roots, the mountains here, beginning to build, teaching, sharing, visiting friends, reconnecting with beloveds—the list went on and on.

Gratitude is a muscle. Let’s flex it, and allow our appreciation + rapturous adoration of the present and everyone in it to carry us through this time. Focus on what you do want.

Good luck getting through this time of winter + being reborn on the other side!

Lots of Love,

Anna (ah-na) <3