The new moon in Scorpio visited us at the beginning of the week, and we may have felt more deeply pulled into the cycles of transformation that have already been at work within us. For many of those I know and honestly myself, this year has been an intense voyage with big waves and a tricky compass.
I, for one, am now sensing more release in my emotional body and can feel a renewal of energy rising within me, along with new momentum and expanding vision.
In the retreats, we explore some of the stories we tell ourselves - stories to which we attach for safety and protection, stories through which we create our ideas of ourselves and our world, and stories that influence our experiences and how we habitually narrate them.
Some of those stories we are aware of and others hide beneath our awareness. What they often do is create contraction and repetition in our experience.
When you unearth them, you have the opportunity to reclaim some of the energy locked inside of the story. You can find spaces to breathe into and open. You can find more nuanced and expansive truths. You can envision new stories for yourself. You can even be so present in the moment that you are naked of any story at all.
All of that can happen inside of you, of any of us.
But looking around me right now, for many of us our stories are changing noticeably and visibly. Changes in relationships. Changes in vocations. Changes in projects. Changes in locations. Willingness to both explore and be seen in different expressions of gifts. Willingness towards new adventures. Willingness towards new habits. Deeper centering in both Self and dreams.
To evolve, we often live through certain stories until we are ready to move onto new ones. If we get stuck inside of one story when we're no longer alive in it, we can feel lost to ourselves.
It's cramped and deadening to remain inside of a story that no longer fits who you are now becoming. Something in your body will ache to break through.
You might cling to the chapter you know (the experiences, the identity, the context, the plot, the setting, the role) because you have derived safety from it and you fear the uncertainty of the story that has yet to be written. You can't know how it will go down. Yet you deny yourself the moment to moment realization of experiencing more of who you are.
Sometimes, you turn the page to a new chapter because you no longer wish to repeat that painful pattern. You no longer wish to replay out that painful script. You no longer wish to repeat the circular narrative or recast the tired drama. More often, you can no longer bear to.
Sometimes, what once deeply nourished you is no longer as meaningful for you. What once excited you now feels flat or more hollow. Or it's simply that there's a new adventure that has been long winking at you from beyond that page you've been living on.
Life is not always full of big and dramatic changes, and who says it should be? The greatest pages we ever turn are within.
But sometimes, change has been calling at the door for longer than you want to admit. And it hasn't stopped. And it's still calling within. And if you want to feel that you are truly inside of your life and not caught in a situational lament, your choice is to listen.
Even if fear will certainly join you at this next turn, even if it's the neon welcome sign for it and the faithful companion that walks beside you as you head for uncertain territory. The sign you're onto something will be this. No matter the path, no matter if fear walks beside you, you'll feel the distinct presence of another companion.
You'll feel more of you there, too, beating and alive. You'll feel at home again with yourself.
In the circle, we often hold each other's hand as we look out at that terrain. If you'd like to join us, we are gathering on Lake Atitlan from January 3-11, 2020 (or one space left in November!). Your space awaits you there, and hey maybe even a new chapter too.
Maybe even the one that you already know right now is coming.