For months, I had received numerous auspicious signs about the new lunar cycle (Tibetan and Chinese New Year) which coincided with the dates of my February 13-20, 2021 retreat in Mexico. I was prepared for all kinds of woowoo— more kundalini awakenings, visions, channeling, ghost encounters, magical energy— something, anything that would be a powerful acknowledgement to the end of a turbulent Year of the Rat. Leading up to it, I was so caught up in self-importance that I ignored my feelings of anxiousness, stress, and tension. The need to know. The need to have. The need to be. It was a lesson in many parts and taught me to let go of what I was holding onto.
... In the end, there was no victory, no defeat. Just a quiet closure to a tumultuous 12 month lunar cycle. No celebration. No magic. No mystery. The joke was on me. Oh universe, how clever you were. Guiding me here, dropping breadcrumbs that I gobbled up with eagerness. Months of buzzing anticipation and endless curiosity, but there was no show. The curtains were closed. The theatre was dark.
I must have gotten the date wrong on the invitation. I know that I am meant to be here. And then I see it. My part in this. The clinging. The folly.
Too close to see where I was. Too late to discern what was real and what was false. The building energy past its peak and now turning toward the opposite way. A falling apart. A falling away. A strange sense of liberation. I had set myself free.
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