October News
October Newsletter
Have You Felt It Lately?
I know many of you have. The number of conversations I've had recently tells me I'm not the only one feeling something. The heavy.
The revisiting.
The return of a familiar pain. A familiar shadow. An old wound. One of those distinct feelings that makes you stop and think:
"Wait. Haven't I been here before?"
"Didn't I already work through this?"
"Didn't I heal this?"
Maybe you've found yourself thinking about old relationships lately, looking back at them from different angles and through the eyes of who you are today. Perhaps an old fear has suddenly reappeared. Maybe a familiar emotion has surfaced, but you can't quite figure out why.
For me, it has been sudden waves of deep sadness. I'll feel an ache in my chest and look around almost bewildered.
"What happened?"
"What is this?"
"Where is this coming from?"
I recognize the sadness. I have felt it before, many times throughout my life. But this time, I can't pinpoint a single cause. There isn't one event happening in my life that explains why these waves of sadness keep washing over me. And because of the work I do, I also have another layer of discernment to navigate.
I have to ask myself whether an emotion feels like mine or whether I perceive it as something connected to a spirit trying to communicate with me. Discernment is a constant teeter-totter for me. Some days I move through the obstacle course of energies, emotions, people, and situations like a well-trained ninja—or maybe an alley cat effortlessly hopping from one fence post to another.
Perfect balance.
Not a wiggle.
Not a problem.
Other days? I'm Bob from "What About Bob?" just trying to get out the door. Forget gracefully leaping onto the fence post. Some days we're celebrating because I found my shoes.
And maybe that's part of this too.
Yes, I have stresses in my life. Most of us do. Nothing catastrophic. Just the usual balancing act of being human—trying to make everything work in this very physical, material world while simultaneously trying to understand something much larger than ourselves. But lately, these old wounds and familiar emotions have felt almost like the Universe whispering:
"Are you sure you healed that?"
"Is there something else here for you to see?"
"Can you look at it differently now?"
When those waves hit, there is one thing that consistently works for me. I force myself—and I mean "force myself"—to become extremely present. Not tomorrow. Not next month. Not what happened ten years ago. Not every possible scenario my mind can manufacture about what could happen next. This second. I bring myself completely into the moment I am standing in and ask:
"Am I okay right now?"
And right now, the answer is yes.
I am healthy.
There is a roof over my head.
My child is healthy.
There is food in the refrigerator.
In this exact moment, I have what I need. Right now, I am safe.
And something changes. The sadness may not instantly disappear. The problem may not magically resolve. The wound doesn't necessarily close simply because I became present. But suddenly, I have somewhere solid to stand. From there, I can look at the pain instead of drowning inside it. I can ask:
"Why does this feel so familiar?"
"What is this asking me to see?"
"Am I responding to what is happening now—or to something that happened long ago?"
"What do I understand today that I couldn't understand the last time I stood here?"
Presence gives me enough distance to become curious. I don't want to approach these moments from a fighter's stance anymore. I think I prefer a surfer's stance.
Balanced.
Grounded.
Knees bent.
A little salt water in my face.
Fully aware that I cannot control the ocean beneath me. I don't stop the wave. I learn how to ride it.
One of the things I continue to learn—fortunately or unfortunately—is that deep self-awareness, awakening, or reaching spiritual bliss is not a straight line.
Healing isn't either.
We don't climb steadily upward until one glorious day when nothing hurts, nothing triggers us, and we've officially graduated from being human. Wouldn't that be convenient?
Instead, it is dynamic oscillation moving in waves.
We rise.
We fall.
We rise again.
Sometimes an old wound circles back around, but that doesn't necessarily mean we're standing in the same place. Maybe we're simply meeting it as someone new. The sadness that once swallowed you might still visit, but perhaps this time you recognize it. The trigger that once controlled you may still sting, but perhaps this time you don't immediately react. The situation may look eerily familiar, but you are not.
You have lived.
You have learned.
You have changed.
And perhaps that is part of healing that we don't talk about enough. Healing isn't always the absence of the wound. Sometimes healing is recognizing the wound when it returns and realizing:
"I know how to hold myself here now."
Over time, maybe the valleys become less frightening because we know they eventually rise again. Maybe the waves of peace grow longer. Maybe those brief, fleeting moments of bliss begin stretching into hours, days, and eventually entire seasons of our lives.
But we miss them if we're constantly waiting for the next wave to crash. So, when happiness comes, let yourself be happy.
Don't interrogate it.
Don't ask how long it will last.
Don't brace yourself for what might happen next.
Be there.
And when sadness comes, be there too.
Ground yourself.
Feel your feet.
Breathe.
Look around.
Ask yourself: What is true in this exact moment?
The goal was never to create a life without waves. The deeper practice is learning to trust yourself in the water.
And when the ocean becomes still?
Float.
For however long it lasts, allow yourself to simply float.
And remember, everything I have shared here is simply what I have discovered along my own path. It is what works for me today.
Tomorrow, I may discover something entirely different.
Because not one person has The answer.
We each have An answer.
Not one person knows The way.
We each find A way.
I invite you to take my suggestions, explore the teachings of others, and then discover what works for you. Don't hard-code yourself into believing that if someone else's practice doesn't work for you—or if you don't have the experience, they told you that you should have—something is broken or wrong with you.
Modify it.
Use it.
Dump it.
Find your way.
We are all one, and yet we are beautifully unique.
Allow yourself the freedom to explore the depths of who you are and discover what works for you.
*Kyah's Journey & Wisdom*
Hello, today I will be telling you about a lesson that I previously learned. So, about a few weeks ago me and my mom went to a huskie's football game. She came to pick me up from a class to go straight there. She showed up in game day makeup, with UW stickers on her face like a cheerleader. I saw her and loved it, but I had reacted by saying stuff that made it seem like I was embarrassed. I treated her like I was embarrassed, but I wasn't. About a week ago I started to think about why I even would have been embarrassed. Then that got me thinking about how amazing it is that she was confident enough to go into public like that. Now I am not saying I am jealous or mad about it at all. So that also got me thinking how we should never feel embarrassed or scared to be different, there was this quote I saw and it was, "you laugh at me because I am different, but I laugh at you because you are all the same." I feel like it resonates with this situation because she was daring to be different. I also got the message that you will only have that moment once you will never be in this moment again, you will never be sitting down reading this article in the exact same position with the same thought running through your mind. So, what I am trying to say is live in the present and don't not fulfill this one precious moment because you are never going to get it again. I would like to shout out my mom for being so brave and wonderful and the best mom in the world. Thank you and here's to being superhuman.
melody@invokeandra.com 541-291-1240
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