The One With The Reflections of 36

One of the most beautiful things about being gifted thirty-six years of life is the ability to have had enough time to know the seasons of change; to really know them, the way you know an old friend. They’re starting to feel more comfortable now, just like old friends do. I’m less inclined to wish the warmer months would stay, or cling to the weeks where everything seemed to flow in perceived perfection. Too much change has existed in this life of mine to continue to allow myself to experience prolonged suffering because I can’t let go; because I want to hold on. Especially my life, the life of a spirit wild and free, where places and people come and go like seasons themselves, and emotions ebb and flow like the tides of the ocean. I have come to befriend change. And it’s rather freeing. Sad sometimes. But mostly liberating.

I experienced a lot of change during thirty-six and a lot of growth. You wouldn’t see it on the outside. I think I look the same, maybe a few more creases in my waning skin. It’s inside where my garden grows. It’s a garden where flowers bloom and wither. Parts of me die after pursuing their course like marigolds fading from vibrant yellow to earthy brown. They don’t belong here any more, at least not here in this version of me. We’re not meant to carry old parts of ourselves with us from beginning to end, but nobody teaches us that. So we are often less likely to embrace the shedding of the old and honour it for all that it gave us at a time needed.

You might be wondering what changed so much. Perhaps one day we will drink tea and I can tell you about it in more detail. For now, I will say I uncovered more of my truth, more of the “diamond submerged in kimberlite.”

Beneath this skin a wild woman awakens, born to howl beneath the full moon, to call upon the wisdom of the ancestors to heal, nurture, and love. There is a woman who is free; free from the chains of expectations, the shackles of oppression, and the confines of a society built to silence those howls beneath the moon. Once we were equals and we will be equals again. A great time of balance is approaching. I feel it in my bones. I’ve been watching the sisterhood rising; a fire fuelled by passion and love. A fire like a sun, strong enough for its warmth to reach the skin of those in faraway places. The ones who also howl beneath the moon.

This is a sacred homecoming. A homecoming my soul knew it would be a part of, even before it could conceptualise. For so long I thought I was searching for home in a place or a person, but the more I grow, the more I know that home is where we are free, where we are all free.

As I enter the year of thirty-seven, I embrace more shedding of the old and the emergence into the new; the awakening of the wild woman. I embrace the cycles of death and rebirth and honour them for all that they are. I embrace a deeper knowing and understanding of the seasons of change, what they teach me and how they pave the pathway forward. And I thank the older versions of me, the flowers that have bloomed inside my garden and seeded for new life to emerge.

Tomorrow is a new beautiful day, a new orbit, a new life.

I honour this with gratitude.

~B