Vast

the world
gives you
so much pain
and here you are
making gold out of it.

there is nothing purer than that. rupi kaur

It’s been a while y’all. I apologize and forgive myself for allowing others to make me feel small. So small that I wasn’t able to prioritize my time and energy enough to say “Veronica, you need to write. You need to create. You need to protect yourself.” No wants, no shoulds, no coulds, but needs. Like the waves need the sea. A message that my tribe has had on repeat for the past three months. The yogis, the mystics, the (Earth, grand)mothers, the priestesses, the artists, the warriors, the mavens, the energy healers, the channelers, the djs, the poets, the messengers.

I keep seeing the message that this Full Moon in Scorpio is all about releasing everything from the past twelve months. If that’s the case then I’m long over due to let out the scream that has been built up. Stuck. Resting in my throat and taking up the space in my body that I couldn’t take up in various spaces of my life. It’s not an accident that this time last year, I realized that one role that i had was ending, and that I’m writing this as my time in another role - both unhealthy - has ended. One ending I controlled, the other I didn’t. One ending I anticipated, one ending I didn’t. One ending marking the beginning of a cycle, one ending marking the conclusion of that same cycle.

In the past couple of weeks I’ve been able to charge in a way that we usually only equate to how we plug in our technology. To dig into everything that I had been (putting off) avoiding. To actually let my soul tribe take care of me and to recognize the ways in which I have been able to take care of them in similar and (hopefully) equally meaningful ways. One house call in particular, a warrior called me out for not calling out. For not uttering words in the way that they knew I had the capacity to spit. This wasn’t to say that we all don’t have highs and lows, and can’t experience moments where we need to retreat within to ourselves. I know now that this wasn’t one of those moments. I was, in all forms, in my home, struggling to find the base that my voice carries. I wasn’t calling out because I hadn’t spoken out loud the levels of shame and pain that I had been treated to in the last role that I occupied. All the ways that I was silenced and how that silence was used to create a narrative that I had no part of. By design.

Thirty minutes of deep-breathing-and-screaming-into-a-pillow-like-my-life-depended-on-it work later, I heard the rasp in my voice give way to me taking up space again in my safe(r) space. I was able to answer/be checked on all the levels of self-care that I had to get back to including questions of “do you want to eat or do you want eat well?”  "are you going to continue to be passive or defend yourself?"  "why are you afraid to say how you are feeling?" "how are you gonna do this work if you aren't doing it for you?" 

Letting go of all of that pain, imposed expectations, malignant energy, allowed me the room to breath into all that I had been neglecting. From my healing practices to how I (meta)physically took care of my being. Trimming my hair. Sitting in the sun. Dancing to music that moves me at my core. To shed everything that no longer served my best interest. It gifted me the energy to directly speak into existence other members of the tribe showing up for me in ways that I couldn’t have anticipated.

To breath in the idea that maybe I didn’t have just one purpose. Or, on the flip, that I can have multifaceted expressions of the same purpose. To inhale all of the support that I had given out to my community in the last cycle, and exhale the (self)doubts that tried to have me believe that support wouldn’t be returned to me. As if happiness was a reward and not a consequence and labor of that love. Because for a second, I forgot that I had the vast capacity to be all of those things. The yogi, the mystics, the (Earth, grand)mother, the priestess, the artist, the warrior, the maven, the energy healer, the channeler, the dj, the poet, the messenger. The teacher and the student of unconditional love.

That all of these beings reside in us, our other temple. The place that should be our primary space of worship so that we can grow to make our own house calls. A space where we can flip the narrative on our limits. A place where when we feel as if we are at the point of having to call someone from outside, we get reminders of our own power. This moon calls on us to dig beyond the shallows and head all the way into the depths so that we can hold that space for all of our forms. I’m grateful for the house calls of this cycle, and to the closing one that allowed for renewed expressions of medicine. I’ll see y’all at the depths.