As the light shifts, the air cools, and the days draw inward here in Oregon, I’ve been listening closely to what the body teaches about how to find the Goldilocks zone in letting go of the extraneous fluff while keeping the flame burning for the gritty work of showing up for the projects that resonate with the blueprint of the soul's ambition.
After a late summer season of unexpected changes (including my intense inflammatory bee sting experience, my partner's work injury that led to a broken foot, his subsequent surgery, a need to move him to town for the months-long healing process, and the decision to co-habitate at a much quicker pace than we had planned, all during the eclipses of last month), I proposed we enter Autumn with a liver flush, to support us to cleanse and compost the past and make space for the new life and rhythms that want to sprout now in our lives.
This was the fourth time I've done this flush, and I was struck by how easy it came this time, as well as how easy it was to introduce it into my life with my beloved. I believe it's thanks to the way I've dedicated myself to weaving these regenerative practices into the flow of my days and in alignment with the rhythms of the seasons, rather than approaching them as a separate task.
And yes, I grieved the sudden loss of having my own dedicated solitary space in which to conduct the rituals of my life, but I know that this next chapter is teaching me how to maintain the authentic essence I have cultivated alongside the intimacy I have been calling in.
In my final session with my dear O.I. mentor Dana last week I named a pattern that has always been there: Every time I’ve expanded — in health, in work, in love — it has followed a pruning. A simplifying. A letting go.
We so often resist the fallow seasons, thinking that release means loss. But nature — and the nervous system — both know that space is what allows new life to take root.
What no longer serves you to keep holding onto?
And would it help you to let it go if you knew — not just in mind but in body —
that your fullness, your life force, your aliveness, your true self
isn’t something you have to go out and get, but that rather that it’s waiting just below the surface of the skins you’ve yet to shed?
Below is a short clip taken from a recent presentation I gave for a colleague's program. In it I speak to the importance of befriending death, and how that part of my journey led me to develop the regenerative wheel curriculum that has emerged in the aftermath of my own recovery & remission as a transmission to support others through the journey of root cause healing.
I am still sorting out how to best curate a free space in which to support you to connect with each other and to ask questions about the Metamorphosis Process. At the moment it looks like the online Village space, and while it's not certain that it'll remain in this form, for now please feel free to join, invite friends and begin the conversation, via this link here:
May this season bring you the courage to compost what’s ready to return to the soil — and the trust that this process can make space for the inner bloom waiting to happen deep within you.