Like any hot-blooded woman

I have simply wanted an object to crave

Uninvited, Alanis Morrisette

Lately, I’ve been running away from the discomfort of my art.

I say discomfort because the magic has been in a… transitional period.

One that, if you ask me, has gone on for long enough.

And also… exactly as long as was needed.

But back to the running.

It’s ironic, that as my autoimmune system was going into overdrive every time I tried to go for a run the past couple years, that my desire to run away from my writing kept pace right at its side.

Running is like that though, you know?

It’s a mirror that shows us where we’ve been hiding, where we’ve been fighting, where we’ve abdicating the throne of ourselves.

It’s a parallel to writing in that way.

{In many ways.}

You can’t really pretend when you’re running.

It’s just you and the pavement. You and the track. You and the trail.

And with writing, it’s just you and the page.

Both offer you the gift and the grace of a clean slate every time you line up.

Of course, though, the offer of that clean slate can feel like the most daunting thing in the world.

Because there’s no hiding.

There’s nothing to get you started, nothing to keep you going.

It’s just you vs you.

Or, perhaps, it’s just you AND you.

The you who is ready and willing. The one who believes.

And the Other.

The one who resists. Who wants to do it tomorrow. Who tells you that you’re shit and why even bother.

And it can seem like a battle between the two versions of yourself.

It certainly has for me.

But what if, rather than a battleground, it’s a TRAINING ground?

For the immutable expression of the medicine of your entire soul.

Now, back to the discomfort.

I’ve been asking myself today, what would it all be about if I simply said yes?

If I stopped trying to think my way through and “manage” myself?

How would my relationship with the discomfort shift, if I knew it was not a separation but, rather, an INVITATION?

An invitation to sit in the mire and the muck.

To notice the quagmiric meanderings of a seeming disconnection.

To be revealed within the fault lines of identity and soul.

What might be poured through, if I chose to be with the discomfort, rather than exhausted {and annoyed} by its presence?

I have been called to create more… and, simultaneously, to create less.

A hungering for depth and expansiveness that refuses to be satiated by anything less than what it wants.

But what it wants?

Well, it felt like that was submerged beneath the discomfort and the running.

Only to be excavated by a trust fall into and as it all.

And I wanted more.

I wanted to be shown more… revealed more… dissolved more…

And I wanted less.

Less of what’s time had come. Less of an art {and business} that felt two sizes too small. Less of a ME who felt two incarnations ago.

But it seemed like each time I tried to cross the divide born of my own encodings, the wider the gap became.

And the more it became filled with seemingly untenable doubts and distractions from what it was all about in the first place.

My body was showing me the way out… and the way in.

But I was running.

The discomfort was shrouding my business and art.

But I was running so fast, I never stopped to remember how to see in the mist.

If you held up your hand and closed your eyes, could you touch your vision?

And would you allow the vision to touch you?

We are taught that we have to fragment ourselves in order to be successful, loved, belong…

We are told that business and art cannot be held in the same body without sacrifice, let alone be fully evoked in that body.

But what if the bridge between where we perceive ourselves to be and where we perceive our desires to be is simply closing of our eyes, holding up our hand, and saying yes?

What if, what IF, the gap was only and ever a manifested form of our own lens?

And, what if… simply by awakening to the falsehood of our perception, the gap has no option other than to begin its unraveling?

Mmmmmm… Yeah. That.

Let me know what comes through for you, Loves.

As always…

Here’s to your untaming,

N

P.S.:

Erotic Abolitionism™: Foundations is underway and it is pure magic.

Gate 4 just dropped today and it is… whoa.

This is an invitation into the Wilds.

To allow yourself to consciously become lost, so that you can be found once more.

This is also an invitation to put your body where your activism is, and become the primordial evocation of the revolution howling through your blood and your bones.

Oh, and we’ll be recording Gate 8: Initiate live together, on Friday June 16th at 2pm PT, to welcome in the energy of the New Moon {and new primordial beginnings}.

Login deets will be sent out on Thursday to all enrolled peeps.

This session will be a Wild Nectar™ practice + teaching transmission that you do NOT want to miss.

You can learn more, see pricing + installment plans, and enroll now here:

Erotic Abolitionism™: Foundations

‍