Of Course You're Exhausted...

This week’s report is coming at you early in preparation of the full moon on 12/12 which will occur at 12:12am. We’ve got twin angel numbers here (moon in Gemini also, so more twins!), representing culmination, the turning over of a cycle, love and partnership, and twin flame energy. 

If you’ve been dealing with a resurgence of emotional trauma coming up in the past few weeks, you’re not alone. It’s been a purging period. For myself, I’ve been exploring a new relationship and emotional intimacy which has put me ass-deep into a HUGE exhausting mess of old energies and fears rising up. It wasn’t until I realized what this full moon was that it all seemed to make sense. (Hey my fellow sensitive earth empaths - how often do we have to tell ourselves that we are crazy only to be reminded that we’re actually in perfect alignment with how the universe is shifting and moving? Goodness gracious.) 

So I want to encourage you to allow your purging this week leading up to the full moon. I want to encourage you that what you’re feeling doesn’t make you crazy. I want you remind you that even if you feel like you’ve been doing nothing but sitting in grief and you’re absolutely exhausted, you’ve actually been doing the Big Work.

Because of course you’re exhausted. 

When you’re actively working with emotional trauma, you are mediating between your body’s original responses to trauma, which can be incredibly visceral, your brain’s automatic conditioned responses and implications from that trauma, AND simultaneously teaching yourself a new way to process it and work through it. 

You are actively trying to calm your nerves, reminding them that what your brain is saying may not be true. You are trying to stop your brain’s impulse to send out the adrenaline alarm bells that create hormonal changes and stress in your body. 

You are calming your body, teaching it how to breathe again. How to relax its muscles. How to expand instead of contract. Teaching it how to feel safe, even when history and adrenaline is trying to convince it otherwise. 

You are feeling your feelings. You are doing your best to send out love and compassion for yourself when all you want to do is cry or give up or isolate. 

OF COURSE YOU’RE FUCKING TIRED. 

But you’re literally changing your brain. Your body. Your emotions. Your energy. You are changing everything. Shaking out the entirety of your experience and using a sifter to separate the dirt from the stardust. 

Don’t forget to reach out for help even when you tell yourself you can’t or shouldn’t. When you choose to reach out instead of isolating, you’re rewiring your brain to accept community and support. Don’t forget to rest. Eat plenty. Move and stretch. Sleep more than you think you need to. It’s okay to not be okay. 

Crying With The Moon

This week I cried with the moon. 

Not once, but twice. 

The first time, my period was really late. I knew it was coming, but it seemed trapped in my body, like it was waiting for something to happen first. I had so much anxiety, over both its lateness and many other things happening. I was working with some themes around feminine and masculine romance, and also pushing away some uncomfortable feelings brought on by that work. And so I drove up to the overlook, and was immediately taken by the sight of the large crescent moon, bathed in glowing red light. It was setting over the mountains, and I instantly and automatically cried. I gave her my fears and my insecurities and she accepted them. I said goodbye to the bleeding moon as she fell behind the mountains and went home, where I finally started bleeding the same night.

The second time, days later, I trudged into the woods through the fresh snow, my uncontrollable sobs echoing between the birch trees. For a few paces, I ran clumsily in my winter boots, as if I could outrun my feelings. Then I stopped entirely, looking up to the clouds…I knew it would be dark soon. I fell onto my knees from the sheer weight of my emotions and all the pain I was trying to pretend wasn’t there. But as I stared into the cloudy darkening sky, most of my body now submerged in snow, the moon, now much larger than before, peeked out for a minute, bright and demanding. Once again, she accepted my feelings. 

When was the last time you sobbed in a forest,

your breath labored against the silence of the snow,

because you knew your body could no longer hold the size of your emotions,

but the moon whispered to you that she could? 

Sometimes our bodies don’t have enough space for our feelings. We need release. We need a larger container. But the body has a wisdom of its own, and its wisdom often says, “Please. Take me somewhere safe.” 

Nothing compares to the complete acceptance of nature. No man or beast has the capacity for the true size of your feelings. But the moon does. The forest does. The goddess does. And so once again, in between sobs, I whispered my devotion to her as my primary lover in this world. 

Practices and Questions to Ask Yourself:

-When was the last time you took your feelings into nature? Have you ever cried in the woods? Screamed at the sky? Let yourself experience the kind of embrace nature gives you when you bring your feelings to her. 

-What feelings are too big to be held in your body? What feelings are too big to be held by others? How can you express them outside of your body? What does self-care look like for you when it comes to overwhelming emotions? 

Pumpkin Pie and Healing Ancestral Trauma

Everyone has a shadow side. 

We learn more about the light from the shadows than we do from the actual light itself. Without contrast, there is no growth and no understanding. 

The key to healing ancestral trauma is recognizing and knowing the shadow doppelgängers of your family members. To see each person as multiple people, and being willing and able to look at them in a multifaceted way. To approach with curiosity, not bitterness. To be prepared for compassion to replace any impulse for demonization. 

This week I dreamt that I was kidnapped by the shadow doppelgänger of my grandmother, and she demanded I go to live with her and my shadow mother, or as she put it, my “real mother.” I learned some interesting things about the both of them, and where their shadows were. I even called my mom afterwards to talk about it, and to figure out whether these shadow depictions were accurate. (They were!) And seeing it laid out like that gave me a clear path to ancestral patterns being passed down and passed up and altered with each generation. And honestly? Seeing them like that only filled me with more love and compassion for them. I mean, the shadow side of my female lineage literally asked me to come live with them. Which is a very clear call for shadow work and compassion and illuminates the areas ready for more love. 

After this nationwide holiday week filled with family time and many mixed dynamics, you may be feeling the same call. Whether you’re estranged from family, or need strong boundaries when with family, or actually feel very close to family, this energy of togetherness can shine a light on ancestral dynamics. So as I sit here, enjoying pumpkin pie and coffee for breakfast, I’d like to encourage you to take this opportunity to reflect on how you view the shadow doppelgängers of your family members and how those reflections may bring you more and more understanding on how to heal your line.

(note: this doesn’t mean you have to have any certain type of relationship with family members if it’s your choice not to. You can still do this kind of work from your end without any real-world contact.)

Practices: 

Clear yourself - use smoke cleansing, ritual baths/showers and nature to clear yourself of any excess energy taken on from family time. 

Gratitude - no matter what your experience with family is like, hold onto at least a thread of gratitude for the things that make you feel loved so you may weave together more. 

Cord Cuttings - this is a great time for cord cuttings if you’re trying to break a certain dynamic or pattern with someone 

Journaling - try journaling and creating shadow characters for your family members so you can begin to separate out their aspects. Once you’ve developed characters for their shadows, you can have an intentional relationship with those aspects so you can learn even more about how to heal ancestral patterns. (This is very similar to the Victims and Villains exercise in my book I Don’t Want To Be An Empath Anymore) 

This Bitter Earth

I watched a seagull fly over the gray-green water, feathers still brown with youth. Out of the corner of my eye, an older woman in a white swimsuit appeared on the rocks below me. She dipped one foot in the icy lake. Waves crashed up against the rocks where her other foot grounded her, spraying her legs. She didn’t see me watching her, but watching her I was. I watched her face silently grimace at the cold. I watched her as she held her foot in place for a full minute, acclimating herself before gracefully pushing her body off the rocks and into the water. I watched her gray hair floating up around her face as it disappeared underneath the surface. I watched her as she resurfaced, her mouth open wide from the shock in her lungs. 

I had just done that yesterday. There’s something about the cold water of Lake Superior that is magic. That punches you in the gut, sucks all the breath from your lungs in one instant, and makes you feel entirely alive. It hurts to be that cold. It hurts to have every inch of you seen and embraced and electrified by ice. But the pleasure that rolls through your body once you’ve endured that pain is warm, soothing, beautiful. 

That’s the thing about living in such a wild place like this. The harsh climate is painful. It’s isolating, difficult, untenable. And that’s what makes Northern people so fascinating and beautiful. We appreciate the difficulty. We dive into the cold and encourage it to surround us. We see how impossible it is to survive here and yet we survive. We see how harsh it is and yet we find the beauty in the gray. The life in the icy waters. 

I need places like this. I will never be one of those happy girls. There will never be a day I walk on this bitter earth without feeling the weight of my sadness. Every day I remember when I didn’t own my body, when I didn’t own my spirit. I remember how I have been irreparably altered and how there is nothing I can do to change the past, to change the pain I endured. And yet, each day I walk on this bitter earth, I see the unchangeable beauty. Not in spite of the pain, but because of the pain. I see the subtle glints of gold reflecting on the breaking waves from the diffused sunlight through the clouds. I see the brown-feathered seagull exploring her first year of life. I see the gray-haired woman smiling as she comes out from the freezing water. 

I am alive. It hurts, and I am alive.

---

(This was the result of some intentional space I held for writing yesterday. I heard a song that really moved me and brought me to tears. So I went to a place I found beautiful while I listened to this song on repeat over and over. As I listened, I allowed my feelings to come up, I observed what was happening around me, and I wrote about it. No rules, no point. Just how the scene and the song and my emotions tumbled over one another. Lyrics in the photos are from the song. "This Bitter Earth/On the Nature Of Daylight" - Dinah Washington/Max Richter)

Victim Isn't A Dirty Word

With all of the conversations happening around the #metoo movement the last few weeks, I've been seeing the dreaded victimhood debate pop up everywhere.

"I refuse to say #metoo because I'm not a victim." 
"You're really just stuck in victim mentality when you give power to it." 
"Be empowered, not a victim!" 

People are so scared about being labelled a "victim" or having "victim mentality" -- especially in the spiritual community. And using it against someone else is a big statement. It's like a dirty word that someone calls someone else to end the conversation. It's the final jab. It's kinda like the "oh no she didn't!" insult of the new agers. 

I find this bothersome.
And frankly, uncool.
Because we are and have been victims, every single one of us.

A victim is, by definition, "a person who suffers from a destructive or injurious action or agency," which is really just a statement of fact and not a spiritual concept. Being a victim is a reality, pure and simple. It should not be the super emotionally charged statement that we throw at one another like daggers.

If you're been assaulted, you're a victim of assault. 
If you've been raped, you're a victim of rape. 
If you've been robbed, you're a victim of robbery. 

It's really pretty cut and dry to begin with. Why in Goddess's name do we have to take something so literal and muck it up with our own karmic drama? 

Victim isn't a dirty word. It's a reality. 

And I know, you want to take it in the spiritual concept direction now. You want to get deep with it or whatever. The cycles of victimhood, the giving away of power, the lack of ownership. Yes, I hear you. If you want to go there, alright. Let's go there. 

Victim is an energetic archetype that is universal and embedded in the collective unconscious. It's a role that every single one of us without exception has embodied. You don't get to exclude yourself because you think you're supposed to be stronger. As strong as you are and will become, the victim archetype will always live inside of you.

The victim archetype is one that lives in a place of pain and violation. Being forced into the victim role is a traumatic and nonconsensual act. Rape is nonconsensual. Assault is nonconsensual. Betrayal is nonconsensual. Every traumatic thing that occurs is a nonconsensual act. 

When we experience these nonconsensual acts that force us into the victim role, especially at certain ages and developmental stages of our lives, yes, it does set up unhealthy energetic patterns in our brains. It does create a mindset that we are not good enough to be treated well, and that we will always be betrayed and victimized. And yes, these patterns will tend to draw in more of the same. We can also re-traumatize ourselves unconsciously.

But these energetic patterns were not created willingly. No human being, in their heart of hearts, genuinely wants to suffer. That victim mentality was created out of pure pain and isolation, based on a nonconsensual act that mercilessly continues to live on in their bones.

But then how does one escape that pattern of victimhood based on nonconsensual acts?
How does one stop being a victim, in the psychospiritual sense of the word?
I would think it would be obvious that shaming someone for feeling that way wouldn't work...
Or telling them to stop feeling sorry for themselves... 
Or telling them that they're attracting their assault based on their low vibes... 
Or telling them to be stronger than that...

If you step back and think about it, it's pretty cold. These human beings, who have been in pain for so long, need our compassion and our nonjudgmental ears. They need validation in a world that refuses to give it to them. 

And more than that, they need to know how to reclaim their power once they've been victimized. And shouting "victim mentality!" isn't going to help them. Why would we create so much energetic aggression in response to an aching unending pain in another being? Why would we judge and exclude and shame those who need support to transcend that cycle? 

It has to start with loving your own victim. This is shadow work at its finest, people. We all have our very own personal victim archetype, she requires the same kind of patience and love that our other archetypes do. She is a part of our shadow. And as most of us have realized at this point, we need our shadow to be fully integrated beings, and to integrate our shadows, we need to work with them intentionally. Trying to push down every sign of victimhood in ourselves and others will only keep us further from our wholeness. There is a root cause, a core wound, that your victimhood stems from. And if you find yourself in those victimhood patterns, it's not because you want to stay a victim. It's because you haven't yet processed and integrated the root cause. 

The only way out of victimhood is to go fully into it and through it. 

By denying yourself as a victim, you are denying an actual physical reality of your life, which creates an energetic dissonance. The longer you continue on in this type of denial, the larger the gap becomes. If you have the courage to let yourself sink into that reality as a victim, truly feeling the pain of yourself as a victim in your current situation and in the root cause of all your victimhood, you will find that you are validating one of the deepest parts of yourself, and you will be able to move through it. This is why I recommend intentional pity parties. It's a way to create space for your victimhood and your self-pity in a safe and constructive way.

Victimhood and self-pity are completely valid and legitimate feelings too. They deserve a safe space as well, just like all your other more desirable emotions do.

You'll find that once you create spaces for victimhood in yourself, you'll feel validated in a way that allows you to naturally transcend that energetic pattern. You can't yet choose a different way if you haven't seen the full extent of the pattern and the initial victim wound. But once you've allowed yourself to be completely immersed in your pain and your victim mentality, you will be able to recognize those energetic patterns and choose differently with how you react and process in the future.

You'll also notice that the people who cry "victim mentality!" the loudest tend to be the very same people who haven't processed and integrated their own victimization. Because once you have validated and understood your own inner victim, there's no longer an emotional charge around the word, and there's no longer a need to judge others for their own inner victim. When others have been stomping out their own pain for so long, refusing to see it for what it is, they feel they must also stomp out the pain of others, because they don't want to reminded of their own pain. 

This is why whenever I'm working with someone who has victim mentality patterns that keep coming up, I don't call them out and tell them to get over their victimhood. I don't tell them that their low vibes are asking for it. I ask them if they've taken the time and space to fully acknowledge the painful experiences they've had.

If you're a doctor, and someone comes to you with a broken arm, you don't say, "It's your fault your arm is broken."
You say, "What happened?"
so you can heal it. 

Victim isn't a dirty word.
Victim is just another part of ourselves
that needs to be seen.
heard.
Met with compassion.
Loved. 

xoxo, Ora

Why I'm Not Sorry For My "Failed Marriage"

Today is my fifth wedding anniversary. Only, I’m in the end stages of divorce. 

(I think it’s funny how I call it “the end stages,” like it’s a cancer or something. But that’s not how I feel at all. Funny how we’re so very dramatic about relationships ending.)

Oddly enough, I write to you from Grand Marais, a scenic small town on the north shore of Minnesota, the place where my soon-to-be ex-husband and I spent our honeymoon together. Only now, I’m here with my lover to manage a small hotel while we work on our respective crafts. (him on music, me on writing.) 

My new sleepy town of Grand Marais, Minnesota.

One of my very favorite dream teachers, Robert Moss, often says, “Life rhymes.” I’m feeling that deeply, as here, on the powerful shores of Lake Superior, I see time crossing over itself, presenting old and new patterns interwoven, and watching how it all connects in surprising ways. 

There is so much grief, and also so much joy. 

I know that the end of a marriage that started so purely, and with so much love, is a tragic thing. But I also know that when a relationship ends, it’s because one or both people grew so much that the relationship was no longer a suitable container for them. And in that way, the ending of a relationship is a positive thing, a herald of exciting things to come. 

People like to apologize when they hear about my divorce. Or they want to rally on my side, demonizing my husband. Or judge me for giving up. 

But the truth of the matter is that none of these things are how it really is. 

I loved my husband. I still love him. And I’ll always love him. For better or worse, whether we’re legally married or not, he’s my family. We didn’t end our marriage because we didn’t love eachother.

October 7th, 2012.

The ironic thing is that if it wasn’t for him and his love, I wouldn’t be the person who needed to move on from the marriage. He gave me so much support and so much space for me to explore myself, and discover the things about myself I’d buried for so long or had never realized at all. 

The more he allowed me to empower myself without judgment, the more I transformed into
someone much louder, 
someone much more raw, 
someone much darker, 
someone who took up so much more space, 
and someone who was no longer a good wife for him. 

His triggers triggered my triggers, and in that way, we were soul mates. We fit together like puzzle pieces in a beautiful shadow relationship that revealed to us our truer selves. And though there were fights and unkind words on both ends at times, I know that at the core of it, we are both grateful for our time together. 

I grieve the loss of my family. I grieve the loss of my home. I grieve the loss of inside jokes, nacho & movie nights, and the shared laughs over the neurotic antics of our dog. 

That’s how grief goes though, doesn’t it? Even if we know it’s the right thing to do, and even if there were things we were ready to let go of, we still grieve the loss of them. The wife dies unto herself. The husband dies unto himself. The family dissolves, existing only as photos in an album of the beautiful wedding you’re still proud of. 

A marriage cannot be a failure if it was created in love. A marriage cannot be a failure if both people want the best for themselves and for the other person. A marriage cannot be a failure if it has taught you more about yourself than any other relationship could.

And so today, I am grateful for my failed marriage. For everything it meant to me and everything it taught me. For all the love and safety it provided me. For the man I will always want the best for. And for the woman I became because of it.

xoxo,
Ora

The Bitch of Transition

"I'm restless, and I'm longing," I sighed.

"Well, you could always blow it all up," she suggested softly.

"I could? All of it?"

"All of it. But if you do that, that's it. There will be no going back," she said seriously, without any sense of graciousness or compassion.

"Okay, let's blow it up and burn it down."

This was the conversation I had with myself before everything changed. The conversation with my Self. I'd like to think her voice is that of my higher self, my inner wise woman, but she can be a real bitch. Though I don't believe that bitchiness and divinity are mutually exclusive, so there's that. She tends to tell it like it is, without apology, and without the gentle runaround. She won't walk on eggshells for me. I respect that. 

Today is my 30th birthday. I'm not having any age-related crisis about it. In fact, I've been waiting for my 30s for what feels like forever. I think your 20s are the time for lesson after lesson, and making all sorts of mistakes to figure out who you really are and what you really want. But your 30s, ohhh the 30s, they feel like the golden age of the Self. And I've been setting myself up to prepare for this magical golden era by burning down the remainder of my 20s. 

You see, there's this thing, this feeling, that I've been chasing for as long as I can remember. It's wanderlust, and the restless wind, and the spark of a fire that's both dying out and just starting to build.

It's complete freedom.

If you've felt it or long for it, you know exactly what I'm talking about. But you don't just get to have it; you have to give up the things that keep you stuck and comfortable. And that's not easy. Trust me. I sit here, writing from the rubble of all the things I've given up, blown up, burned down, and sacrificed. I started the process of divorce earlier this year. I sold my awesome business. I moved out of the home I own. I was giving up a life that was good to make space for a life that was great. 

And then I went headfirst into a spiral of depression and grief. I was stuck in this horrible transition phase where I was grieving the things I was giving up, while also looking forward to my new life with excitement, but not being able to have either right now. All I could do was sit in the rubble, waiting for the dust to settle so I could move on. 

"This is agonizing," I told her.

"You asked for this," she said flatly.

"Yeah, but..."

"If you want big change, if you want freedom, you have to go through the process. Have a pity party for yourself if you want to, but then you have to adapt."

So I did. I had a major pity party for myself. (I mean, more than one, if I'm honest.) I let myself fully experience the grief and depression I felt about leaving my old life and now being stuck in the in-between. I cried, watched tons of Netflix, slept, bitched about my circumstances to my loved ones, cried more, and bitched more. It helped a lot. I would fully recommend the pity-party move. The way I see it, if you repress your self-pity, it will slowly ooze into everything you do because it's never truly seen or satisfied. But if you throw it a damn party, and temporarily embrace your victimhood (no matter how pitiful you may feel), you're validating that feeling which then allows it to ease naturally. 

I'm still in that transition phase. I've adapted to the in-between a lot better, but it's not easy. It shouldn't be easy. I have no epic solution, but I know a lot of you are in the same boat as me. So I guess, on my birthday, I am reaching out to all of you to let you know that you're not alone. That this shit is hard. But that it's also brave, and amazing, and so full of gifts. Especially if you can approach it with some humor. (My inner wise woman bitch is great at that part.) 

When we burn it all down consciously, we also sift through the remains consciously, discovering patterns and habits we no longer need, pieces of ourselves we'd forgotten about, and amazing little nuggets of truth that we've been hiding all along. It can be easy to get stuck in the depression and grief of it, but hopefully there's a sassy inner wise woman to remind you why you're doing what you're doing. And if she's not saying much to you right now, let me speak for her: 

Don't settle. 
Be brave in the dawn of your own destiny. 
Enjoy the juicy bits and seek them out. 
You deserve the great life. 
You can have it. 
Have hope. You can get through the transition.
Be grateful for the gifts in the rubble. 
Find the beauty in the dark. 
It's not easy, but it's worth it. 
Freedom is yours. 
 

xoxo,
Ora