Look, and Look Again

The ballet, 501's, a meltdown, and Boys of Tommen.

Weekly Musings:
My kids both had off of school last Monday. Upon realizing we’d all be home for the day, my husband came home at lunch and took off for the rest of the day (bless him). He bundled the kids up and took them sled riding in the melting snow (thank goodness). I napped on the couch and when I woke up, I grabbed my 600 page book and kept reading (see below). It was heaven. By the time they came home, the downstairs was back to its original tidy state and dinner was on the stove. Mom guilt is alive and well in me.

On Tuesday, my five-year-old son and I took a walk outside. It was 40 degrees and the sun was shining. We walked for an hour and just a few minutes from our house, he decided he was too tired to go on, so he parked it on a sidewalk and I followed suit. We had a nice conversation. He told me he doesn’t like when I have my period. I asked him why and he responded with, “because it’s trash.” Later in the week, my daughter whispered to me as I sat, building legos. “You deserve to be a rich woman,” she said. I don’t know where they come up with this shit, but I’m here for it.

Every year, my daughter and I see a theater production together. On Wednesday, we ventured out to see Swan Lake. We picked this one together and I thought for sure she’d love it, considering she’s been nagging me to get back into ballet class. The show didn’t start until 7pm and even I was yawning. My friend’s husband works at the theater and was gracious enough to seat us in the third row. But every time the black swan came out, the smoke machines would start up and we’d be left gagging on shit we probably shouldn’t be inhaling. We made it through the first half and at intermission, we ducked out. It didn’t help that she’d been going through a growth spurt and had been super tired everyday after school. By the time we made it home, she was snoring in the backseat.

I felt an almost visceral call on Thursday to hit up the thrift store. I used to go every week, hunting for gems, but over the course of the last year, I’ve scaled back to the point of only going when I feel said call. My son and I went and we walked away with a ton of clothes for him, including a coveted Minecraft robe in his exact size. He was thrilled. On our way out, I randomly browsed through the return rack—friends, if you’re not looking at the return rack, you’re missing out. I came across a pair of Levis and held my breath as I saw the label. Somehow, the thrift gods handed me a perfect pair of 501’s, in medium wash (my fave), in perfect condition, in my exact size, for $8.

I had a mini meltdown on Thursday evening, when a lot of things came to a head. For two solid weeks, I’d been in this liminal space of not really feeling much at all. I was just existing, not reaching for anything—just being. I’m deeply in tune with my own cycle and I knew what was happening. So I just did what I needed to do for myself. That involved a lot of rest and being as present as I could. I don’t really extend my energy too much outside of myself or my little circle during this time.

Little tests started popping up in different forms, touching on various facets of life where I still feel challenged. I won’t go too deep here with what they are, because you’d be reading a book, and also, boundaries. But all of that to say, I was well aware of what was happening. And it knocked me down. I lost my shit a bit and then woke up the next morning with a clear intention—to get quiet and take some space. I did a guided meditation and was able to see so clearly what it all is and what it means. I received clarity on what it is that I want most and where everything is headed. Most importantly, I saw that I needed to be tested in these things in order to see that they were still hanging on by a thread—there were still some things that didn’t want to loosen their grip. I needed to go through another frustrating bout of old patterns and behaviors to really see and understand that these things need to go once and for all. And I’m there. I’m right at the cusp. But I needed clarity on my why, where I’m headed, and ultimately, who I am at my core.

By the time I came up for air, it had all clicked. I understood what these things were blocking for me and why—what the fears were behind these actions and beliefs. And now that I see it all, I can let go. I can take all of that energy that was spent on those things and I can shift it to the things that actually serve me and bring me closest to the version of self that I feel the most connected to—the one that lives a life of total freedom, unchained by old shit. It’s heavy, I know. But the synchronicities are always astounding.

The night I was going through it, my friend Lucia sent me a reel on IG about women’s cycles and how to pay attention to the shit that comes up during our luteal and menstrual phases. It’s not about being a bitch or complaining or nagging. It’s about understanding that what triggers us in this time period often has to do with where we feel our boundaries have been crossed. To put it simply, it’s usually the shit that needs to change that comes up. I know I can get caught up in projecting outward in these phases. But ultimately, it usually has to do with boundaries I’ve crossed on my own. Am I not resting enough? Am I eating like shit and not exercising? Am I taking on too much and then blaming everyone else because I’m overstimulated?

The next phases—follicular and ovulation are about action. They’re about change. Why? Because our energy is up. We’re a bit more regulated. We have the bandwidth to do these things. I watched the reel a few times and felt how true it was in my core. And I’m grateful to have female friends that just get it.

A lot of this mumbo jumbo has really been coinciding with what’s happening energetically in the world and how’s it’s all manifested for me on a personal level. If you follow Chinese astrology, last year was the Year of the Snake. It was about shedding. It was about quiet transformation and personal reinvention—letting go of outdated habits, identities, and situations. I’ve done a ton of work over the years to get myself to a good, stable place—a place where I know myself deeply and feel at home anywhere I go. A place of freedom and safety and ultimately, pure love and compassion for every version and stage of my life. I’ve talked before about shedding and the things that have continued to hang on by a thread. Clearly, if you’ve made it this far, you understand that there are still a few niggling things that just do not want to let go. I don’t hate it anymore. I don’t chastise myself. I hold compassion and try to do better the next time around.

2025 was illuminating in many ways. I challenged myself to let these things go. And for the most part, I did. These things no longer feel authentic to me or are even in alignment with this current version of self. And so they have to go. But sometimes we have to jump into the fire. We have to learn the lesson again and again until it completely burns off. I’m there. It’s painful, but it’s incredible. It’s new skin.

2026 is all about the horse. Fire horse to be exact. It’s about momentum. It’s loud and fast. There is so much energy behind it. It’s about breaking out of restrictions—what no longer serves. This is the year, where if you’ve gone through the shedding process, it will crumble and fall away. The trajectory is forward. There’s no looking back. It’s all very trendy right now, so I’ll spare you.

If you follow Human Design, we’re shifting into the new paradigm in 2027. Along with the shedding that happened in 2025, the new paradigm pulls us into just that—a new paradigm. A new way of being. What isn’t meant for us will fall away. Sometimes it’s painful, sometimes it’s effortless. But what isn’t meant for us cannot stay. If it’s inauthentic to us, it will leave. Look at our country and the way systems are breaking down. It’s extremely unsettling and scary. What is it going to look like in six months, a year, two years?

Things will start to break down, fall away, and shed. Our greatest currency is knowing ourselves—who we are at our core, what we value. It’s knowing what we bring to the table, what our gifts are, our talents, and standing solid in that. We cannot do that if we’re hanging onto a ton of weight that no longer holds itself up. The facade will end, whether we like it or not.

And so, here I am, at 41 years old, walking through the fire once more, so very deeply tired of getting burnt. The ash will fall away and with it comes clarity, a beautiful knowing that every single ounce of it was worth it. But I no longer have to carry it. I can set it down and walk away, with a deep sense of knowing who I am, carrying the weightlessness of freedom and love. I can be exactly who I am now. I hope that for you, too. (Comment freedom for my 6 week course on shedding what no longer aligns.) Just kidding. But I’m always here for advice. And hugs. Really big ones.

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Bookish Things: I somehow managed to get myself pulled into the Boys of Tommen series, late as per usual. Binding 13 was recommended to me by a friend that swore she loved it so much that she was envious anytime she knew of someone just starting it. She wanted to experience it for the first time, all over again. So I’m like, ok, I need to check this out. I didn’t realize the book was over 600 pages, but that didn’t stop me from reading it in mere days. I honestly can’t say what pulled me in. There are so many facets to this book that would normally send me throwing it across the room (realistically just re-shelving it, but you get the point). The story carries on for 600 pages and spoiler alert, it doesn’t end there. It slides right into book #2: Keeping 13. That one is a whopping 672 pages. I can’t say for sure if this story-line ends, but apparently, there’s a 3rd book on this particular couple in the works, so my spidey-sense says I’m fucked.

About halfway through Binding 13, I began to panic. I looked online, tempted to buy the next book, but then I remembered that I have a local library and also, a teenage niece who tends to read some of the same stuff I do. I ended up putting it on hold at my library and went out of my way to get it the morning after I finished the first one. When I asked the librarian for it, she not-so-kindly told me their rules on holding books, then directed me upstairs to the children’s area, where I could find it—in the young adult section. She was judging me hard. And as much as I wanted to say it wasn’t for me, I remembered that I could give two shits what this stranger thinks of me and I bolted up the steps, away from her judgey eyes.

When I relayed the story to my husband later that day, he just looked at me and dead-panned, “So you’re reading a children’s book?”

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I’ve borrowed sections of this beautiful poem from Mary Oliver. But I think it needs to be laid out here in its entirety. Enjoy.

To Begin With, the Sweet Grass
Will the hungry ox stand in the field and not eat of the sweet grass?
Will the owl bite off its own wings?
Will the lark forget to lift its body in the air or forget to sing?
Will the rivers run upstream?

Behold, I say—behold
the reliability and the finery and the teachings
of this gritty earth gift.

Eat bread and understand comfort.
Drink water, and understand delight.
Visit the garden where the scarlet trumpets
are opening their bodies for the hummingbirds
who are drinking the sweetness, who are
thrillingly gluttonous.

For one thing leads to another.
Soon you will notice how stones shine underfoot.
Eventually tides will be the only calendar you believe in.

And someone’s face, whom you love, will be as a star
both intimate and ultimate,
and you will be both heart-shaken and respectful.

And you will hear the air itself, like a beloved, whisper:
oh, let me, for a while longer, enter the two
beautiful bodies of your lungs.

The witchery of living
is my whole conversation
with you, my darlings.
All I can tell you is what I know.

Look, and look again.
This world is not just a little thrill for the eyes.

It’s more than bones.
It’s more than the delicate wrist with its personal pulse.
It’s more than the beating of the single heart.
It’s praising.
It’s giving until the giving feels like receiving.
You have a life—just imagine that!
You have this day, and maybe another, and maybe
still another.

Someday I am going to ask my friend Paulus,
the dancer, the potter,
to make me a begging bowl
which I believe
my soul needs.

And if I come to you,
to the door of your comfortable house
with unwashed clothes and unclean fingernails,
will you put something into it?

I would like to take this chance.
I would like to give you this chance.

We do one thing or another; we stay the same, or we change.
Congratulations, if you have changed.

Let me ask you this.
Do you also think that beauty exists for some
fabulous reason?

And, if you have not been enchanted by this adventure—
your life—
what would do for you?

What I loved in the beginning, I think, was mostly myself.
Never mind that I had to, since somebody had to.
That was many years ago.
Since then I have gone out from my confinements,
though with difficulty.
I mean the ones that thought to rule my heart.
I cast them out, I put them on the mush pile.
They will be nourishment somehow (everything is nourishment
somehow or another).

And I have become the child of the clouds, and of hope.
I have become the friend of the enemy, whoever that is.
I have become older and, cherishing what I have learned,
I have become younger.

And what do I risk to tell you this, which is all I know?
Love yourself. Then forget it. Then, love the world.

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