I flew today. I usually sleep on planes, but if I stay awake, my mind fills with ideas. Today was one of those days.
Some time ago, I began awakening the goddess within me. And now I realize — I found her exactly where I once believed I had proof she didn’t exist.
Today, I feel at peace with myself and the world. But not every day is like this. Sometimes I feel anger. Fear. Doubt. Anxiety. Some days I’m friendly and open, other days I want to be alone. One day I receive feedback with grace, the next day it feels like an attack.
But now, I hold a deeper understanding of just how beautiful this is. (I hope I don’t forget.)
It’s cyclical. Natural. Alive.
Life happens within me. Whole worlds unfold — inner fairy tales, seasons of emotion.
Sometimes it’s summer. Sometimes it’s winter.
Sometimes the sun shines. Sometimes it rains.
And just like nature doesn’t complain when the rain falls to nourish the earth (can you imagine a tree getting angry at rain or winter?), I’m learning to embrace the heavier, darker states. Because after the rain… everything blooms brighter.
I’m reading Women Who Run with the Wolves, and there’s a passage that stayed with me — about what people, especially those close to us, most want in order to feel safe: consistency. Predictability.
But the wild feminine is not predictable.
People often fear what changes. It’s uncomfortable. Unsettling. But growth is change. Learning is change. Healing is change. And for the longest time, I felt guilty that I couldn’t stay “sunny” all the time.
Now I know:
If I were constantly “light,” I’d be far from myself — far from the wild goddess who came here to experience life in its fullness.
To dance in the rain.
To meet the spirits who only reveal themselves in the dark.
Rain and night are only frightening when we resist them. When we try to escape. But if we embrace them… they become magical.
And really — in a land where the sun always shines, nothing grows. It becomes a desert.
Since accepting this truth, I find that I’m no longer triggered by the people I once found “too much.” Maybe they only bothered me because they reflected what I was trying so hard to suppress in myself.
A few days ago, I even talked to the rain.
We were in a café, and outside it was pouring. The car was parked 20 minutes away. Linas asked, “Should we call an Uber?”
I replied, “When we leave, the rain will stop.”
And almost like magic, as soon as we stepped outside, the downpour became a soft drizzle.
Soon after, it picked up again — and I joked with the rain, “Hey, are you trying to mess with us? At least let us get to the car first — then you can pee all you want.”
And it stopped again.
Calm. Still. Gentle all the way to the car.
I realized that the little burst of rain was just its way of saying hello.
It’s so fun to witness how our reactions shape reality. Nothing is objectively good or bad — it’s all interpretation.
You can see the rain as a curse sent to make you miserable…
Or you can see it as a kiss on the cheek, a sprinkle of joy, a gentle greeting.
The same goes for emotions.
When emotional rain comes — if we remember it came to water our inner garden — we may find it’s not so terrible after all.
And maybe, just maybe, we can even learn to dance in it. 🌧️🩰🌸
1/14/2019