On Transitions
I’m learning to let transitions take as long as they need.
Rather than rushing through to avoid the discomfort of not knowing, I’m learning to let it be.
Rather than jumping into creation, I’m learning to linger in the questions without needing immediate answers.
Rather than pursuing external resources, I’m learning to turn towards my inner guidance.
Rather than forcing past, I’m learning to slow down at the edge of the unknown.
Just existing there, on the edge of what sometimes feels like a cliff.
But there’s clouds and so you can’t tell what’s truly there until the clouds part.
And they’re not parting.
So all you can do is be in that place.
Surrendering.
Not trying to fix or figure out but learning to trust life.
Learning all the subtle ways you try to control it.
And then allowing.
There’s medicine in these transitions.
It’s a space where we get to grow our capacity for discomfort.
A place where we get to deepen into the mystery that is this life.
A place where we get to turn towards different aspects of ourselves we may have ran from in the past.
There’s a building of tolerance to go at a different pace.
A slower pace.
A deepening into our core essence.
Much like the transitions I teach in a yin movement practice.
Slow and intentional.
Turning inwards and being present with what’s there.
Not judging.
Moving like you’re going through honey.
How do we practice this off the mat and in life too?
That’s what I’m deepening into.
Trusting that I’ll know when I know.
And that action will come from that knowing and knowing will come from that action.
But for now, it’s honey.
It’s slow.
It’s subtle.
It’s the incubation period.
The season of winter.
And some winters are longer than others.
How do we trust the timing of our own inner seasons, while being engaged and present to the experience?
Rather than trying to skip over it.
Or rush it.
Or end it prematurely.
Or force a detour.
I’m learning to let my inner seasons and the transitions between them, take as long as they need.