The truth is simple: to bring in something new, something old has to die. Sometimes this is a voluntary death, as we work away at old patterns and work to heal ourselves of trauma. 

Lately I've been aware of a different type of death--the excruciating, painful kind, in which you are aware that you cannot live another minute in your current reality, but you have no clue what you are bringing in.

I'd be lying if I said that the aftermath of explosive change was peace and love. Sometimes there is an immediate sense of relief. There almost always is eventually. But in between, something else often happens.

When we shift the patterns we have lived in, the people around us feel it. Sometimes, the change is subtle. Other times, when one person changes, the entire system has to adjust, requiring change from all involved.

What do we do with all these stories?

We love stories. Humans have been grand story tellers for as long as we have been humans. We make meaning through stories. We remember. We relate to self and others through stories. And your stories about your precious life are wonderful and powerful tools for learning and growing until they become a straitjacket that binds you.

Read that title again. I can't explain why this is, but I have been studying this reality all week. My conclusion: ouch. Being on this path doesn't mean that we don't have feelings about our stories or our journey; it simply means that we are in surrender to and in search of something higher than ourselves. Whether you call it God, the Divine, the Light, or the Universe, the invitation is the same: to become less attached to our own stories and more attentive to the One who is writing it.

I interpreted all of these experiences as evidence that something about me didn't quite fit. There always seemed to be a part of me that kept me from fully belonging in either world.

Is your life on fire right now? Maybe everything is falling apart. Are you wondering whether you are crazy or simply tuning into the Divine?

Gratitude is not an emotion. Let me explain. I think we have all had intense moments of feeling grateful. It’s an absolutely beautiful feeling, but we can’t sit and wait for gratefulness to come when it does.

There is a great deal of focus on identity right now. While self-exploration is an essential part of the human experience, is identity something you pin to the corkboard and there it stays for the rest of your life? Is it more like seasonal clothes, and you try it on and pack it away? Or is there a sacred process of becoming, a path that we follow and partner with God on a certain blossoming that is embedded in the soul?

But denial is not an action plan. We process denial so that we can take steps forward in response to what is happening in our lives. No matter how small, these steps are significant. It is all too easy to embrace denial as a lifestyle and remain stuck in anger/regret/guilt, justifying this vantage point with repressed grief. It is ironic to me that when we try to rush the process, we actually remain stuck. The quicksand is the elusive "but this wasn't supposed to be."

I have seen this at play in the group courses I have been leading for the past year and a half as well. Sometimes people come into the courses and say, "I'm not intuitive at all," or "I'm a little bit intuitive, but not like you." And in a couple months, as curiosity and asking questions replaces a fixed identity, these same people start hearing the Divine or find themselves guided more in their daily lives. There is great freedom in curiosity. What do you love right now? What sparks your interest?

“What are you really seeking?
Let's be real--you don't grow sitting in an easy chair. Sometimes I get people complaining that this path is so hard, and to that, I say, ‘every path is hard.’ It is hard to grow and change, and it is also hard to not grow and change.

For most of us, growth doesn't occur when we are comfortable. We have to be uncomfortable enough that moving into the unknown feels more comfortable than the known.

It's a phrase that comes out of my mouth regularly in sessions. Usually, I'm speaking to someone who is replaying a situation from years ago, trying to find the exact moment where everything went "wrong." Or they're listing all the ways someone else should have behaved differently so their life would be "better." They're not really talking about the past. They're avoiding grief.

Anger has been up for people. I don't mean anger at little inconveniences, but rather something bigger and more primal. It's like the women of this world are fed up with the old ways--they are done with always being nice, running around behind other people and making things work--and they are mad about it. They are roaring for the world to hear. They are the lionesses. They are beckoning in new patterns, new processes, new ways of being.

I’ve been reflecting lately on my resistance and eventual surrender to this path. As a child, I knew that I was sensitive. I could feel people in ways others couldn’t. I had spirits come to me at night, whispering in my ears. At the age of eight, my family was in a bad car accident, and as I saw the car barreling into the side of our car, I was taken out of my body and watched the accident from above.