The Glowing Clarity of a New Day

I had the joy of a mini rebirth this month. Coming back to taking a full breath and moving with purpose and direction. If you follow my social media, I shared some of the experience there.

I had a week full of synchronicity, a culmination of goals realized in unexpected ways, an old nighttime dream coming true in my lived life, and a refreshing burst of focus and drive I had been longing for. This was no massive turn of the Wheel of Fortune, not a Tower moment, but a shift that, while small, changes everything.

These are the moments I live for. They excite me and make me want to shout to the world, "It's real! Change happens! It can't NOT happen! It really does all work out!" At least for a week or so, until I dive back down into the process. Getting into it again—the cycle of change and spiritual learning that I love so much.

From my journal:

The feeling of renewal. I never know when it will come. I hope for it, strive for it, remind myself of the cycle of life and seasons, to have faith in the process.

Repeatedly going through cycles where I feel like I am walking through an endless fog trying to see the way, with only slight shifts in density. Then suddenly the fog lifts, it is a new day, sunny and bright, and I can't even imagine this path in anything but its glowing clarity. Every time it happens, I am surprised, delighted, and a little in awe.

Is a butterfly shocked when it breaks out of the cocoon and takes flight for the first time? Giddy with the newness but also feeling it is perfectly natural and the movements intrinsic to its being?

I wonder too about the phoenix. Is the time after turning to ash endless and full of confusion, fear, and hope? Does the energy of bursting back up into life, full of flame and power, feel both cosmically predicted and still unexpected and miraculous?

I guess we all go through such an experience for the first time when we are born, moving from dark, watery warmth to the shock of air, light, and breath. Startling, this natural progression of life.

It also reminds me to give myself grace and develop an ever-greater patience for the rest of the journey. As I write this, I am already leaving that beautiful week behind and diving back down into the work—into stretching and growing, challenging myself to do the next uncomfortable thing. It does not get easier, but the memories of coming up out of the water and getting a big, fresh breath of a glorious week like that stack up over time and give me the endurance and faith to keep going.