It gives me incredible solace and a sense of contentment to realise that I’m finally at that phase where I am seeing and living through evidence of changes that I have so far only desired and dreamed of bringing into my life. It has been a long and winding journey, and for probably the very first time, I am at a point where I can really see all that has changed, how much of what is, was not to be just a few weeks and months ago.
It is thrilling to experience this transformation as it happens, and it gives me goosebumps on a daily basis, of late. This is the stuff that was mere dreams — that frankly felt impossible — some years ago.
There is a sense of one phase ending, and being on the cusp of something, once again. I am feeling a palpable sprightliness and upbeat energy that comes from the freshness of birth and beginning.
On the one hand there is the undeniable energy of oneness and coming together, of loops closing, of open ends finding a logical settling, of the chaotic ebb and flow having found a natural rhythm, now gathering some steam and churn. Of a slow emergence, as it were.
And of course that also comes with a sense of an ending. The subtle ache of time finally catching up. Of finally, really having to let go of so much that was, so much that has been a comfortable way of being. Everything that has brought me this far. And so, I also carry a little listlessness. A downward energy that makes me want to slowdown even more, sit, mope a bit. Revisit again and again all that I am slowly handing over and moving on from. All that I used to be, and all that I am leaving behind.
Physically — within me — as well as in the things happening in my life I feel a sense of endings and beginnings playing out simultaneously. On the one hand I feel a churn of some impending change that will spark off its own set of movement. And on the other, this deep desire to stop, not move.
This is a slow process, and today I realised that maybe this is just it — this is my process and it takes time. I have only just become aware of this — what I have always passed off as too slow, time-consuming and belaboured set of events and done my best to avoid — is actually the process, the work, at work. To be born again means to take space anew, after all. It means that which once took up all the space, must scoot over to allow for the new to emerge. For the new to become. And there is no way for this to happen fast, or on autopilot.
It’s the strangest dichotomy. And to live it and feel it in my body the way I have been — in a swinging push-an-pull sort of way — has been so fascinating to witness.