Transitions
I am in the in between… that beautiful and sacred space of transition. Not quite the person I was, not quite the person I want to become, I reside in a place of fearful uncertainty and certain knowing that all is good and right and true. There is peace to be found while leaning into the transition. Focusing on this peace, this inner knowing, IS where my sanity lives. Outside of that peace? I feel, with great certainty, like the Hot Mess Express. It turns out I am human after all.
On the tail end of releasing my first children's book SHINE, sometime in June, I got a very strong intuitive hit that it was time to sell my house. If you've been with me long, you know that I have dedicated my life to following the small still voice. My intuition led me out of an abusive relationship, out of my medical practice (a mere three months before Covid), and nudged me to click “purchase” on the painting class that would change the course of my life. The entire galaxy of aliens, their story, and my current studio gallery were all born from trusting and following this inner knowing. On paper this looks magical. In reality, listening to and following my intuition is a daily (and sometimes minute-by-minute) practice in patience and trust. Sometimes there is no amount of deep breaths, yoga, or chocolate that can calm the rising anxiety of “not knowing”. Trust me. I've tried.
The space between the decision and the outcome, the actual transition from what was to what will be, IS faith in motion. During this time, we can rest assured that while we work to maintain a narrow path of alignment, our ego will rise up from the murky, shadowy waters of our subconscious and try to turn us around. Pull us down. Beg us to sit with it in it's fear. It will scream “Go back! Retreat! This is way too scary and we could really get hurt! We're not enough, we can't, we mustn't!“ And then, the worst of them all… “WHAT WILL THEY SAY?”.
I used to see those cries from ego as a threat. Something to ignore, bury, or “fix”. Now, I see them as a gift. The fear that they bring forth is a red thread connected to an old story that needs to be released. My job is to follow that thread back to it's origin, and love the version of me that I find there. For SHINE, I worked directly with four year old Peytsie. For my latest collection “Transitions”, I have been working with my inner teenager. She is whip smart and creative in ways that amaze me. She sees the bigger picture, and everything seems to come naturally to her. She tries new things, makes new friends, and isn't afraid to put herself out there over and over again, no matter the outcome. And she has a righteous streak that runs a mile wide. This girl, for the first time in her life, is aware of the injustices in the world and questions EVERYTHING. She feels the pressure to succeed in a way pleasing to her family of origin, and the longing to be truly and authentically FREE from their “rules”. She is also the one at the end of the red thread, tugging at my heart, fearful, looking to be seen. And, she is the genius behind these paintings.
While strangers have been roaming my house, deciding if they like it enough to make it their own, I have been up at the studio with the kitties and the puppies painting. The color, the meditative practice, and the time alone has been transformative for me. And as it does during every transition, my ego has been tapping me on the shoulder, begging me for attention, showing me that red thread to follow back to the heart of it's fear. I love my inner teenager with a depth now that I could never have mustered then. And I honor her, her fiery wisdom, and her authenticity in the Transitions.
