I am kneeling over my laptop on my bed, feet curled up underneath me, sipping one of my “healthy hot chocolates” made of cacao powder, a little medicinal mushroom powder, a teaspoon of honey topped up with boiling water and a dash of almond milk. It’s Halloween and I can hear the fireworks going off on adjoining streets as I tap away at my laptop keys.
At the start of this year, I sat down and made a promise to myself that I would see this year through, in this little city between the Rocky Mountains and the Atlantic Ocean. I knew it would be a year of transition. I knew it would take all my strength and will. I knew it would be one of my greatest challenges yet.
This transition feels like being deliriously happy one moment and sinking into a lingering dissatisfaction the next. I have this beautiful opportunity for reinvention right now. As I integrate, I allow myself to feel sad, to mourn for the person I once was. To sit down with myself, once more like I did so many years ago, and redesign the life that I want for myself.
Transition is a kind of death. A death of one life, to make space for another. It’s quite apt to be writing about this on All Hallows Eve. Tracing back to its roots, this holiday was known as Samhain, a time where death was celebrated. Perhaps tonight marks the death of my past life, as well.
Again and again, I’ve surrendered into trusting that I am exactly where I meant to be right now, as I’ve watched myriads of dreams and wishes unfold and lay to rest around me. For the first time since I started my digital lifestyle business, I’ve met all my financial aims. I’ve bought a home to call our own with my love. I’ve created 2 courses that are having such a powerful impact on people’s lives that they are transformed. I’ve travelled to London and San Francisco and all around British Columbia.
Life has unfolded with absolute ease and grace — the two things I always look to — to confirm that I am living in the flow of life, and not against it.
Still, I’ve spent more hours than I’d like to admit, pouring over my journal or curled up on the sofa, wondering whether living in Canada really is the right thing for me. It’s hard for me to confess this because I’m terrified that I may be misunderstood.
I keep remembering that time the psychic in Bali told me that my fate would be to find the magic in the mundane. The thing is, I want so much more than mundane. I want extraordinary. I’m terrified that I am missing out on all the adventures I am supposed to have. And pacified by the sense that my adventures will be of a different kind from here on out.
I remember the heartache I would sometimes feel from belonging to no-where and no-one when I lived, travelling, always on the road. There was a sadness there that pulled me towards wanting a home, and a physical place that I could feel moored to. This feeling is what propelled me towards wanting a new life… it is what brought me here, to this place, where I find myself, now.
I also remember the exhilarating freedom that came with travel. Fifteen years of it has left me with a mark stamped into my heart. A feeling of there being no limits. A desire to taste the edges of that limitlessness. It acts like an addiction imprinted on my soul. I always want more.
Yet, there is this deep inner knowing that here is exactly where I am meant to be. That all the mental noise, the toing and froing, back and forth between the life I used to live and the new life I am conjuring up now, is a result of the transition I am undergoing. This is what it feels like here, in the space in-between. It’s a kind of no-mans-land between one world and another with feet in both places as I integrate the transition from one way of life to another.
Integration, in this case, means completely letting go: if I want to live a new life I have to sacrifice my old one.
I don’t know how I’d manage all the big emotions that this transition has brought up if I didn’t have my daily spiritual practices to anchor me. I keep returning to my breath, to my body. I escape the precarious thoughts playing like a broken record in my mind “you are missing out” and “maybe this isn’t the place for you” by being still and present.
Starting fresh means integration and new manifestations. The details of the life I am calling in are only just starting to form their first tendrils. I require patience, time and space to allow myself to sink into this new me that is emerging while I gain more clarity around what I want and trust that the right things are already on their way.
I am always growing and changing and evolving while at the same time learning how to stay still within myself. This death, the sacrifice of my old life, is just another cycle within the larger cycle of life, as I make room for something new.
To celebrate this inner death of mine, on this particularly sacred eve, I am offering a $50 discount on my most popular course: Manifest More. Almost 200 wise women and a small handful of men have sauntered through its doors, to heal, to release and to shape a new approach to their lives, with the 6 simple steps that I use in my own life, time and time again.
Use the code ‘mmv2’ at the checkout to make use of the discount.