the great let go.
(or, the dance with discomfort)
I am finally coming up for air, feeling fully anchored in my body for the first time in what feels like ages.
Even saying that feels layered and complex, especially in these times of relentless doom, destruction, and despair. But I honor the duality of this moment — the truth that our ability to ascend into the highest realms of joy is inseparable from our willingness to dive into the deepest waters of grief. As above, so below.
Still, I wonder: Can we carve out space for embodied joy and goodness amidst it all?
How else are we supposed to survive this life — no, thrive in it — if we don’t?
I knew I was back in my body again because I was finally able to write.
Not the kind of writing where I’m simply pouring thoughts into my journal (though that’s always a promising sign, too!). I mean the kind of writing that connects — when I’m tapped into the vast well of wisdom within me, and the words flow as if they’re being carried from a place far beyond, through me, into being.
When words drift from my mind without a stutter, dancing through my brain, spiraling down my arm, kissing my palm, finding their way onto the paper with such ease it makes me crack a smile.
The kind of writing that carries a deep, exhale of relief.
The kind of writing that sings:
You did it. You’ve returned to your heart, to your truth.
Welcome home.
∴ When the Soul Stalls ∴
I go through what I call “soul stuck-ness” — cycles where I’m not just feeling sadness or boredom (though, as someone with ADHD, boredom can be its own kind of torment). Soul stuck-ness is something deeper: a sense of being utterly overloaded yet disconnected from the world around me (the double-edged life of an empath). It leaves me paralyzed, unable to move through the day.
This last cycle felt heavier, though. It took time to recognize that the stagnancy wasn’t random — it was tied directly to my avoidance of feeling what desperately needed to be felt.
I watched my spirit dim, my heart shut down, and my body slow to a halt. Getting out of bed felt impossible, like life had been drained of its color, leaving me in grayscale.
Every signal pointed to the one thing I was running from: grief.
I feared it would drown me in despair, but in truth, the grief was asking to flow through me — not to consume me, but to cleanse me. It was the key to unblocking what had been stuck and calling my soul back home.
I’m learning to embrace that I don’t need to fully understand where the grief comes from or why it lingers. Instead, I’m called to honor it as a sacred resident in my body—welcoming it with love and presence rather than shrinking in fear of its weight. Grief ebbs and flows, sometimes without clear reason, but as someone who feels deeply, I know it will always live within me. My work is not to resist it, but to meet it with tenderness and let it teach me.
Anything we hold onto for too long becomes a barrier, not just in our spirits but in our bodies. And to move forward, we must let it move through.
How can we honor grief as an ally—a testament to the depth of our love—and hold it as a precious teacher, a gift that shapes us, rather than a burden to bear?
∴ Through the Mirror ∴
Grief and joy are mirrors — two reflections of the same story, two sides of the same coin. They are deeply intertwined siblings, each carrying the keys to a sense of balance and wholeness.
Last month, I finally woke up. I broke the spell, shattered the hardened mold around me, and pushed through the muck to emerge into the light once more.
As humans, we are in constant rhythm with the rise and fall of nature’s cycles, ever flowing with the tides of the unseen.
We are infinite travelers on the cosmic spiral, guided by unseen forces — the clever Cosmic Conductors and powerful Planetary Councils who weave their magic far beyond what the eye can perceive.
Such is the life of a lotus flower: rising from the depths to bloom anew.
Keep reading to discover what helps me move through the dreaded cycles of Soul Stuck-ness. . .
∴ Sounding the Shift: A Winter Playlist for Release & Renewal ∴
When I need to pull myself out of the mud and get moving again, it almost always starts with music—a carefully curated playlist designed to alchemize whatever I’m struggling to move through.
In honor of this powerful winter portal of death and rebirth—a season that invites us to honor endings and embrace beginnings—I’ve created an eclectic seasonal sound journey just for you.
This is your invitation to release whatever you’re ready to let go of, to dance with and through any discomfort you’re carrying, and to create space for catharsis. Let this be a permission slip to meet yourself exactly where you are in this moment.
You are already free; you just need to remember it in your body.
How to engage with this playlist:
Listen to the tracks in order—there’s a method to this magic.
Grab your best headphones or speakers, and find a space where you can move, breathe, cry, or simply be.
Hit play when you can be fully present for at least half, if not all, of the journey. This isn’t background music—it’s an experience.
Stay hydrated, and carve out time to rest and integrate afterward.
You don’t need to move the whole time. Sometimes a song will ask for stillness and deeper listening.
Most importantly, enjoy yourself. Relish in your sacred you-time. Don’t take yourself too seriously—seriousness is overrated.
Finally, write down what you felt, saw, discovered, or downloaded during the experience.
Let the music guide you. Let your body lead. Let it all flow.
This transition into 2025 has taught me to trust that death is an essential process of life.
What are you ready to finally let go of that is keeping you from living your life authentically?
As always, comments and reflections are welcome - send me a message or drop your thoughts below.
Thank you for reading and joining me on this journey.
from the sky,
˚ˑ༄ؘ kohlibri
loved dancing with discomfort to this great playlist