I have one word to describe how late summer 2023 felt for me: weird. That was often my reply to the daily questions. How are you? Weird. How have things been? Weird. How do you feel? Weird. No other descriptor captured what I was feeling quite so succinctly.
Weird. Out of sorts. Not imbalanced, per se, but certainly not resting comfortably or harmoniously, either. Like the super blue moon at the end of August came into my life early, then decided to stay a while. Like I woke up one morning and my skin no longer fit quite right. Like I stepped through a wormhole into a dimension almost identical to this one, but with some subtle, indefinable, yet equally undeniable difference. Just...weird.
During this period I was receiving very consistent messaging from Source. Be here, where you are. Stop focusing so hard on trying to create a future outcome. Find the joy in your current moment. I quote, "now is not the time for banging on doors that refuse to open." I heard and did my best to follow this guidance, while also relating to our Universe that I felt most uncertain about my desire to be in this present moment. Something feels off here. I'm struggling to see the joy in front of me. I'm sure you see something that I don't. But can you also see the weird?! Y'all, seriously. It's weird here.
And then, one day, I knew. The way you suddenly remember where you put that item you've been searching for, or you recall the name of that movie you and your friend were referencing last week. Out of the blue, I knew. I've felt this weird before. This exact flavor of odd. I know what this is. It's an event horizon.
I'm on the edge of something. I will soon pass over this horizon, and when I do, I can never come back. Beyond the weird is a personal singularity, a point where all conceptions of time, space, self, and the known will break down, cease to exist. An upleveling impends, and with it the inherent upheaval. With this understanding comes the knowledge, born of experience, that things will likely get more weird before they become less so. Roger.
Ground control to Major Tom. I should find my protein pills, put my helmet on. Because one day, really any time now, the stars will look very different. Ah, yes. This is why I'm currently floating in a most peculiar way. I am approaching the event horizon. Now I understand the directives from my guides, the reason why I must cease and desist with my efforts to move forward. Because the very definition of forward is about to change in incredible and irrevocable ways. The future I was striving towards belongs to a version of me I am about to unbecome. Energy spent towards that future is energy wasted. Wasted, too, could be these last moments as the current me. The joy that is here, that I am being call to notice, to bask in, is the joy of the known. For everything that I know is preparing to shift. Quantum change is calling my name. A year from now, nothing will look the same. I'm being asked look with love at what is, what has been, while it still exists to be beholden.
And I think my spaceship knows which way to go. I don't claim nearly enough prescience to predict life beyond the singularity. But I am beginning to understand what is unfolding within me, what presages the changes that will happen in my outer world. I have poured effort into my professional self and into my health these last five years. I've utterly rewritten my work in this world, found a sure and steady purpose, and begun what I pray will be a life-long exploration of how that purpose moves me through and across this plane. And my body continues to heal. I gain more energy, more clarity, more strength and endurance with each passing month. This summer was the first summer I've felt truly well since 2017.
My focus in these two areas has paid great dividends. And allowed me to conveniently ignore other arenas of my life. Perhaps ignore is too strong a word. I felt I had a limited capacity in this most recent chapter of my life. I chose where to invest those finite resources. I do not regret my choice. But here, approaching the event horizon, I can see more clearly. I have a greater capacity, and as I broaden my gaze I notice where I have work yet to do.
The years spent in my soul upgrade (I no longer refer to it as a health crisis) turned my focus inward, and there I found the wounded parts of me. My shadows, the limits I had chosen and that were laid upon me by history, by accident, by circumstance. I have spent much of my recent years healing these wounds, exploring and aligning my inscape. That inner world is much changed now. I am no longer the woman I once was. What feels weird here, what moves me towards the event horizon, is that I am still living her life. The sensation of an odd fit was quite accurate. The life I am living now belongs to a woman I am no longer. And I don't yet know how the woman I am becoming would live.
But I am about to find out. I know a tremendous amount about what I do not want. Which, you've likely heard me say, is not the same as knowing what I do want. But it's a hell of a research base from which to start asking the question. And there are a few clear wants, a few callings I have already heard. I want to be more than a coach. Not not a coach, but not only a coach. I want to create a much larger network, one that includes in person connections beyond the limits of social media. I want to travel. I want to add new skills to my arsenal, for my own benefit and that of my audience. I want to return to adventure and new experiences.
I have some ideas for how these desires may come into being. I'm not quite ready to share them, though you will know when I am. But you may also want to pop a protein pill and put your helmet on. I suspect that what is on the other side of the event horizon is going to be a very wild ride.