New Season; New Beginnings
Here in the northwest, fall brings needed rain after a long, hot summer, and the season is marked by breathing in the crisp air while watching the trees display their full range of colors before they stand bare. It's a time for things to fall away to make room for what's next, even if the seeds planted now may take a while to harvest. It feels like time to get cozy, turn inward, and welcome more stillness, simplicity, and an inward turn.
Welcoming this part of the cycle flies in the face of my deeply-rooted pattern of trying to control things, stay steady, and resist falling apart. I'm feeling the tension in my body; the exhaustion of going against nature's cycles.
In a moment of clarity the other night, I was suddenly inspired to get rid of some clothes, shoes, and papers that were non-essential. In addition to making my partner very happy, this de-cluttering made clear to me that this phase I'm entering requires me to commit to more intentionality when it comes to my time, money, energy, and space.
These commitments are coming on the heels of having been fairly unintentional as of late; skipping my meditation practice, ignoring my body's signals, and stressing about money, business, health, and other things.
The brilliant Marion Gilbert offered timely teachings in our training this morning. She invited us into liberation from our conditioned patterns by allowing ourselves to become thoroughly exhausted by our particular flavor of reactivity. She suggested that there are three criteria necessary before we will allow ourselves to turn inward: you need to be afraid, tired, and willing.
Check. Check. Check.
Part of me knows it's natural to feel everything I'm feeling. I know from grounded theory, earlier cycles in my own process, and work with my clients that stepping more fully into sharing my voice, serving from my heart, and believing that my dreams can really come true is terrifying to the part of me that craves the familiar.
But I'm tired of feeling tired.
I know that the most incredible things happen when I'm fully present, and not being there lately has brought up my fear of this feeling sticking around for too long.
Luckily, I'm also willing to turn inward.
While I continue my own journey, which looks like returning to my somatic practices, allowing myself to be held right where I am, and plenty of tears, I also want to acknowledge and share that a lot of wonderful things I intentionally planted before I lost touch with presence are also coming to fruition:
Enneagram Typecast (my new podcast!!) launched last week and our first full-length episode will be out tomorrow on all streaming platforms.
My Applied Enneagram Group Coaching program, which I dreamed up many months ago, is starting next week and a special group is forming.
My Compassionate Witness Project wrapped up this week and I am in utter awe at the level of depth these conversations reached, and they supported me in nearly filling my private coaching practice with clients who inspire me.
After ignoring signs of unprocessed emotion for weeks, a single breathwork session brought me deep release, something that comes from a foundation of practicing.
As my holding pattern cracks open, I have been personally witnessed and held by groups and individuals with whom there is an established foundation of safety and connection.
Full-body-yeses I felt in moments of presence have brought me opportunities to continue investing in my own growth and several of them are just around the corner.
Being present and consistent for just a few minutes at a time with my puppy has yielded the result of her ability to regularly come, sit, and lie down on command (and she is a snuggle princess lovebug).
These are all reminders that even when I inevitably lose touch with presence, amazing things can still happen. In addition to my very real fear and exhaustion.
As I turn inward, aiming to simplify, let go, and prioritize the things that matter most to me right now. I choose to take things one day at a time, knowing the seeds I have planted are growing and the next harvest will come from the ones I'm planting now.
The only thing left to do is to trust the process.
With Love,
~Caryn
For Reflection
Take these questions to your journal, your next deep conversation, your therapist, coach or counselor, or simply ponder them throughout the upcoming weeks.
What symbols, lessons, and teachings can you glean from the changing of the seasons?
Considering where you are in the present moment, how can you simplify, internally and externally? What in your life is ready to fall away to make room for something new
Where is exhaustion and/or fear showing up in your life? What is their relationship with willingness to try something different?
What are you harvesting from previous seasons? What helps support you in trusting the process?
Before you are ready to welcome your own liberation through turning inward, there are three criteria: you need to be afraid, tired, and willing. (Paraphrased from teachings by Marion Gilbert)
