Cycles

There is a moment—you may have felt it too? When we are aware of a change without being able to name it—you are no longer who you were, and not yet fully who you are becoming.

The door is open. The old room is behind you. The new one hasn't fully come into focus yet. That space in between—that threshold where the light shifts and everything feels tender, vulnerable, and unresolved—is transition.

When I step back and look at everything I've been writing lately here or in my journal — pulling inspiration from the daily words, dreams, the monthly energy forecast, quiet observations made while observing the light; sunrise, sunsets, midday filtering in through the window—I notice the word from yesterday, Monday, flowing through it all —Transition. Combined with the two personal words that emerged for my week instead of one: cycles and desire, I smiled.

Normally I pull one word, yet this week two came forward: cycles and desire. Rather than seeing that as an accident, I got curious about what the message was, and the more I sat with them, the more inseparable they felt.

(note: In addition to collective daily words,  I have a list of people I pull personal word of the week for)

Desire was the collective word last Monday, and opportunities to lean into floated through the week; curiously, it's finding me again, and cycles are often a reminder that nothing is permanent.

There are seasons for beginning. Seasons for striving. Seasons for harvesting.Seasons for resting. Seasons for releasing.

That led me to a different question: Not what do I desire? But which desires belong to the season I'm in now, and which belong to a cycle that has already completed?

There's something else that has come up that's important as we navigate the next six months:

• First, stop fighting unnecessary battles.

• Then, release the fantasy of how everything is supposed to look

• Finally, notice that many of the limitations you feel are internal rather than external.

The discomfort we often feel isn't because life is changing—it is because we try to remain loyal to a season that has already completed itself.

I am finding that as we grow, we don't desire more, but to express our desires more truthfully. Often in my work, my clients and I explore what do you 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 want. 

Desire isn't asking, How do I get what I want? It is asking, Who am I becoming through what I want? It's an important observation and distinction.

And

Maybe that is why transitions feel so vulnerable. We tend to resist these spaces because we've been taught that not knowing means we're lost. But  transitions are not the absence of solid ground. They are an invitation to trust a different kind of footing.

Notice what feels unsettled in you right now.

Not broken.

Not behind.

Just...between.

Maybe it's a relationship finding its new shape. A version of yourself you're slowly releasing. A chapter that hasn't quite ended, while the next one has yet to fully reveal itself.

Or perhaps something different than all of that— maybe it's a subtle shift in how you see yourself and how you're living your own life.

Transition often happens in the body before it registers in the mind. Your shoulders know before your thoughts do. Your breath knows. Your gut knows.

And…

Here is something else I am learning about the in-between spaces. They want our presence. They ask us to slow down enough to feel what is actually shifting instead of rushing toward the next chapter too quickly—So we don't miss the wisdom quietly tucked inside. Because every transition is also a teacher. And every threshold holds a gift for those willing to pause long enough to receive it.

As I settle into today, this week, this moment, these words from Moon Omens linger in my heart:

"I give my heart to the life that is right in front of me. The more fully I live this day, the more naturally my life becomes everything it is meant to be."

With an abundance of gratitude, love & light - Erika