A few days ago, the uncertainty became so big and overwhelming that I felt like I was at the bottom of the sea, waves crashing over me. I lay there, breathing on the floor, and one by one, I found the places in my body where I was bracing, holding, and tensing.

One by one, like pulling tightly clutched fingers off the bottom rung of a ladder, I let go.

There’s a thing about spiritual, or energetic freefall:

The more you do it, the more you build a body of evidence supporting the fact that it’s the right thing to do. It gets easier to let go of those last few fingers that clutch the bottom rung of the ladder, as you flail your legs about above the unknown, because you know intellectually that you will not die.

But, it never gets less scary to the primal parts of you that seek safety. Knowing. Solid ground. Comfort. That part is always there, screaming like its experiencing its last few moments on earth. You learn to feel safer, as you step further and further out into the unknown. Further and further out into the great-big-what-the-fuck. You learn to feel safer, you build the body of evidence that reminds you that it’s going to be magical and better than anything you could ever plan yourself, but you’ll never know where the landing is or what it looks like. That’s the part that sends the nervous system into overdrive.

It’s a different way of orienting yourself in the world: one where, instead of seeing and knowing where you are going, and knowing what the path ahead contains, you stay in the energy and know that whatever emerges from within this energy is better than good. A surrender of control; an allowing of absolute magic. The thing that keeps me grounded through this new way of being is my connection to my Guides, and the energy stream that they show me daily.

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“It’s a different set of rules here” they say.

“When you are holding on, you need to live by the physical world rules. When you let go, you have different rules. Different things to pay attention to.”

It’s been a year and a half now of trusting them:

I let go.

The energy catches me.

There’s a moment of sheer terror followed by the utter relief of being back in the flow of the energy stream.

I feel the flow of energy and it feels like utter magic and I know in my bones that it’s all working out better than I could plan.
It does.

It’s that simple.
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They’re right- the physical world rules don’t apply here. Things shift and change at a moment’s notice. The world rearranges itself so rapidly that you can only ride the wave, not understand it.

I was chatting to a friend last week— a recovering athiest (*cackles*) about stepping out into the unknown. “It’s the fool’s journey” I said, offhandedly, “and we’re all fools, every last one of us.”

“Oh, what’s that in reference to?” he asks. “Is that Shakespeare?”

I grinned. Poor rational person stepped into the deep end here.

“No, it’s tarot. I’m pretty sure Joseph Campbell talked about it too. At this point it’s a cultural archetype.”

I then put on my teacher’s hat and spent ten minutes talking about the Fool: stepping off into the unknown, jaunty hat on his head, happy little dog at his feet.

The unknown is not scary when you don’t know any better.

Then, life happens: you know the drill. At this point, I think LIFE (tm) has happened to all of us. We all bear its scars. We all know better. This is the point at which our paths might diverge, or they might not.

You see you can either take the happenings of LIFE (tm) and let them harden you, or you can take the happenings of LIFE (tm) and let them make you bigger. I used to be the former, now I aim for the latter. To allow my heart to re-open, in whatever amount of time it takes my psyche, body, nervous system to feel safe doing so. Not to force it (this is a form of spiritual efforting that I find abhorrent), but to allow it. To see the baseline state as the Fool-ish openness to the world, and to know and trust that the body returns there when it is able.

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The fool comes back around to the beginning, over and over and again.

Yet each time, he knows more. He’s seen some shit.

How is his hat still jaunty? How is he still striding forwards? Why hasn’t he packed it in and gone to live in a hut in the middle of the forest, alone? Why didn’t he lie down on that hill that took him out, and just DIE there when it got hard?

Because he’s card 0. He moves through the cycle without getting stuck there. He is the bravest one of all. He chooses to re-open the world, not because of naivete, but because he knows that to close himself off is to stop living.

We are all fools. But some of us get stuck along the way on the journey. Every single step through life can be one in which you are clutching the bottom rung of the ladder, staring below you in absolute terror, refusing to let go of the last remaining hand-hold you have on your life.

Or.

You can soften those fingers.
One by one.
Soften your body.
Breath by breath.

Let go.
​Something bigger will catch you.
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Let go.
​Your own path will catch you.

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Want to know how to do this?

​Book a session. Your guides will show you your own energy stream.

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Big hugs,

Rebecca

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Ps. The next Wonder Botanica Pop-up will be on May 15th. Any requests?

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