on magic and healing.

there is no magic bullet. no deus ex machina that’s coming through the window to save you. you are not likely to inherit any fortunes from relatives you’ve never met, and willy wonka probably isn’t sliding a golden ticket into your DMs.

and that is just the truth.

the difference, then, between your success and your failure, between your joy and your suffering, is what you make of that truth. are you swept under by the current or are you able to flow with it? can you live your life even if it stubbornly unfolds the way that it likes? can you maybe even acknowledge that it might not be life who is the stubborn one?

at different times in my life, my period has caused me immense pain. sometimes wrecking my body for a quarter of each month. in my ignorance, i armed myself with the synthetic steroids we know as “birth control.” and now in a little bit less ignorance i arm myself with nutrition, herbs and oils, and compassion.

today is very much one of those overwhelmingly painful days. the “problem” hasn’t gone away. no crystal clear step by step solution has come to me. even after long stretches of progress. not from my acupuncturist or my tarot deck or my diet or a spirit guide visiting me in my dreams.

sometimes, when i cling to my identity as “yoga teacher” as healer or as women’s empowerment coach, i sink deeply into shame and into depression because of my “imperfection.” because i still struggle. because my moon blood still brings me so much pain that i’ve yet to understand or vanquish. how dare my body betray me after all i’ve done. how dare i ever be anything other than a perfectly curated archetype because that’s the only thing worthy of love and trust and abundance.

there is no magic bullet. one way or the other. it’s not there in another box of essential oils. and you aren’t being punished for that one time you accidentally had gluten. the thing that you are, the walking breathing mess of a miracle that you are, is made up of so many forces. ancestry, DNA, soil, air, stress, water, resilience, patterning, fear, bliss, memories, dreams, beliefs, misunderstandings, lessons, teachers, relationships, winters, petals, shoes and chips and salsa and stumbles and pick me ups and late night phone calls and so many things that you could never individually count, more than the grains of sand on the shore, more than the stars in the sky. 

so do not fret. do not hate yourself. and if you do, accept that as a necessary step on your journey. learn from it what you can. trust in your own inner knowing even when your outer doesn’t know shit. you are being guided.
 
and the sad and dangerous part is, the hate and the impatience are fueled by a culture that tells us that the magic bullet is real. that there is a one-stop solution for you, except you’re too stupid or too poor or too undisciplined or too wild or too original or too plain or too old or too fat or too dark to find it.
 
so instead of waiting to be saved or rescued or found or enlightened or perfect or anything you’ve put there to symbolize whatever that “finish line” you were sold on means to you…just live. and allow. and surrender. work when you can. rest when you can. lick every ounce of inspiration off of your fingers as it is given to you. invite all of it in, let it take up a real residence in your soul and be reborn into whatever it is that is coming.
 
nothing is coming to save you. there are no heroes. there is no magic bullet.
 
and isn’t that fucking magic in and of itself?

#monthofauthenticity day six

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