Moving on can be unnerving. Wow, I was really doing this. This is happening. Me, my journals, my car and the open road. Ohio, here I come!

The month after my partner and I split was emotionally turbulent. I had set the intention, in the relationship closure ceremony, to let myself feel it ALL. That meant crying when I felt the tears coming (which literally felt like every two seconds there for awhile), rage when I felt like raging (yelling in my car usually did the trick) and wallow if I felt like it (and I really did).

Moving on is a complex, dynamic experience. Whether its moving to a new home, leaving a job to a more aligned one, leaving behind an old, dysfunctional relationship to your body, grieving the loss of a loved one in any form...our hearts need time to catch up to the changes on the physical plane.

And one guaranteed thing I know about moving on is…

It can be MESSY AF.

This week I found myself at a lakeside park for hours. I watched the water pulse towards the shore, the breeze bounce through the trees and the squeals of children playing at the park. I took a nap in my car and let nature envelop me and soothe my nervous system from the inside out.

I ended up in a lakeside rose garden. Mmmm.

You know that luscious feeling? It’s as if you and your journal are one. The energy is flowing, the ideas are pouring through, something else is moving your pen and you’re so IN your body that nothing can disturb that delicious moment of you and the Divine communing together. 

*B L I S S*

As my heart started to mend itself just this last month or two, the words started to come back. Were they truly gone? Eh...who knows? What I do know is that when I was in the goo of a caterpillar (my old self) somehow becoming a majestic butterfly (my new self), there were no words. For me to be without words was, frankly, a scary feeling. It’s like not being able to feel God or the Universe. No matter what has gone on in my life since I was about eight years old, I’ve always been able to write my feelings through. Words have always been my medicine and vehicle for contentment and purpose.

When life’s curveballs arrive, SURRENDERING to where you’re being redirected becomes PARAMOUNT if you’re to allow EASE to still be present in your life.