It began with fire. At the start of December, the largest fires in California’s history came right to my door.
Two days after the fire broke out in a town 45 minutes away from me, I could see the billowing cloud of smoke behind the mountains on which my home sits. Watching the sun rise and turn the plume of ash red, it felt ominous. Like a monster. So I packed everything precious to me and left. I drove 5 hours north to wait it out. A few hours after I left, the entire neighborhood was evacuated.
For 2 weeks I sat in the most uncomfortable limbo, checking live satellite maps every hour. Watching the red dots that showed “detected fires” creep in closer to my home. Little red circles multiplying over everything I held so dear.
I knew what those red dots meant.
It meant the lands I loved so deeply were burning. I felt the heat of it in my bones. I mourned the loss of my flowered grasses and wooded limbs. I grieved over the loss of all that beauty. Worrying about where all the animals I had seen on my daily walks would go.
We burned like this for days on end. Weeks. With no end in sight.
I cried every day, watching the images on the news of my beloved mountains engulfed in flames. Knowing, when I returned, that things would never be the same. Not necessarily worse. But different. Unknown.
And when we approach the unknown, loss always waits at her entrance gates.
I knew enough to understand that nature regenerates herself in this way. I knew to trust the process and in this rebirth. But still, there was the death of the way things had been. There was the feeling that something had been taken from me before I was ready to release it.
And there was the adjustment period of reviewing all of the images I had held in my heart since the day I arrived there: the orange sunsets. The fennel stalks which offered me their seeds on every hike. The tree trunks against which I had leaned and offered prayers to every evening. The chipmunks and grouses that had made me laugh while I tried to meditate.
These images in my mind would no longer match what was actually there when I came back. Now they would only be memories.
What an interesting experience, to be standing in a present moment at the same time as it is becoming a memory.
My home miraculously survived. When I finally returned a month later, I held my breath as I looked at the charred mountains, once gloriously green and lush, behind my home. I winced as I felt the scorched earth on my own skin. A wound, that though healing, was still freshly burned and tender to the touch.
My lungs heaved at the scent of forest fires lingering in the air. But I said to the lands, alright, let’s get to it then.
I spent two days restoring as much as I could. Cleansing mountains of ash, restoring the beauty of the gardens as best I could. Honoring this piece of earth that had given me so much and helping her get her crown back on straight again.
On the second day of being home after a month, the mudslides came. I was evacuated once again. I packed three days worth of clothes, not knowing the devastation that would ensue, and checked into a hotel.
The next morning, I awoke to see that almost my entire neighborhood had been destroyed. Hundreds of homes lost, so many people dead, missing. Children. Children, dead, my heart wailed.
All of our roads washed away, and became inundated with debris and oceans of water. Just 5 minutes from my house. My neighborhood devastated, but my house once again spared. Muddied up. Inaccessible. But miraculously, still alive. I felt grateful for my home’s protection and devastated over the death of my neighbors.
That evening, my throat became sore. My chest began to wheeze. The days stretched into a week. Bedridden, bronchial tubes inflamed and infected. Barely sleeping as my chest coughed and coughed all of the grief out of my body. Losing all control and surrendering.
When the lungs are affected, it is heavy grief being processed out of the body.
During this time other things happened. Family members who I had gone low contact with years ago, due to unhealthy and toxic dynamics that they had no interest in healing, suddenly popped back in. Nasty, verbally abusive texts appearing on my phone, gaslighting, attempted shaming via text. All during evacuation, while being sick. And then my moon came, with the most painful contractions.
This is too much, said my ego. You are just fine, said my Soul, showing me an image of the book I read to my 3 year old, highly sensitive nephew at night.
The title? “I Can Handle It!”
Just a few weeks before the fires broke out I had been through one of my biggest up-levels of the past five years in the area of my work.
My soul showed me a vision of the next step. It didn’t “look” different on the outside. Not much. But it felt very different on the inside.
I know by now not to ever turn down the soul’s invitations. I usually pay for it later with the misery of misalignment. So I said to my soul, okay, let’s get to it.
The uplevel began.
I released clients who I was complete working with, many of whom wanted to keep working with me and were willing to pay the new fees (more about that next). But I knew my client avatar was now slightly changing and I was being called to serve that new avatar of client with 100% of my energy. That meant turning some people down, so they could find a more aligned mentor based on their goals. And freeing up my energy field for the women I was not being called to serve with all of my energy.
As my books called to me to finally be fully birthed, I knew I had to create more space for the muse to be with me as I wrote. I reduced the number of spots to work with me privately in 2018 from 15 to only 5.
I doubled all of my prices, to levels that pushed my own comfort zone. My prices have always been premium, because the work I do with my clients is some of the best in my industry. This is not egotism. This is direct feedback from the people I work with.
Yet even though my prices have always reflected the high value of the work, my soul issued me a “bigger leap directive”: the person I needed to become to serve the high-impact woman I was going to serve in the coming years, she had a different price point. A higher one. One that would serve as an initiation for not just me, but for her too.
The new price was a transformational tool in and of itself. It was an invitation for her to step up even higher into her mission. And it was an invitation for me to hold a higher vibration for her to do exactly that.
With this new price point which my Soul showed me in meditation, this was the next level to which I was being called: a coach whose prices and quality of coaching put her in a category only 5% of coaches reach — master level.
While my Soul knew I had put in the time, blood, sweat, and tears to belong there, my ego still had her “blips.” She was uncomfortable. Who are you to think you can be in that 5%?, she asked.
I have done this work long enough to know that this is all a normal part of the uplevel process. The ego blips are to be expected. The fact that this was uncomfortable meant that this was exactly where I was being called to grow and expand.
Within a few weeks the five spots to work with me privately at my new level of investment were nearly sold out. I was amazed at how easy it felt and how quickly it happened.
And then, the women who arrived for the other high-level program I offer, the High Priestess Circle, were outstanding. The most high earning, impacting, & achieving group of women I had ever held in circle. I was honored.
All of this happened, before the great burning and drowning.
All expansions are preceded by contractions.
All contractions are preceded by expansions.
For those of us who have a great calling on this earth. Who feel driven by a thing greater than us to serve. Who know we are here to leave a legacy footprint on this earth, long after we are gone…
We are used to working hard. Pushing through to get the results we want.
We are used to getting our strong, brilliant brains to “figure out” how to get the outcomes we want.
And this is celebrated as “the way” to make the level of high impact we have always been called to make. Plan, structure, figure it out, push, repeat. It works, up until a certain point.
But it stops working when we get to that certain point, because this “way” of achieving is often missing a crucial element.
Before a supernova explosion creates the birth of new stars, the old star contracts in upon herself. The contraction is the thing that creates the explosion which creates new galaxies.
Before we come through the birth canal, there is a moment in which the woman birthing us must draw all her energy in upon herself and focus it inwards to push us out. She doesn’t have time to worry about taking care of the needs of anyone else, except her and the baby.
The missing element for creating legacies is to honor the time spent drawn in upon ourselves, in stillness.
A time when we pull all the tendrils of our energy that are nurturing others, back in towards ourselves for a moment. A period when we point the full power of our nourishing towards ourselves as we get ready to birth.
Before an uplevel. After an uplevel:
Draw your energy in.
Don’t be anything to anyone except yourself.
You’ll need this energy for what you are about to give to the world (even if you can’t see it yet).
Tend to yourself.
Don’t return calls.
Don’t schedule appointments.
Feed yourself well.
Take lots of naps.
Put your phone on do not disturb.
Let people know you won’t be available for a while.
Then let it go.
Trust this necessary selfish period won’t last forever.
Let it be there.
Dare to enjoy it.
And it is in that space of trust that you allow the big thing you are here to do next to move through you and out of you.
That’s very different than “figuring it out,” imposing a “structure” to make it happen or forcing a “plan.” Sometimes those things can be helpful. Sometimes they are symptoms of a lack of trust and a fear based mindset.
And darling, you know nothing good comes when you create from that place.
The star doesn’t “think” about what it needs to do to explode and birth new stars. It doesn’t create a plan before it explodes. She simply lets the wisdom of the Universe move through her. In her nucleus is the ancient memory of the cosmos guiding it all.
Your body and the baby know what to do during labor, without your mind needing to “figure out how to give birth.” In your cells are the moans of millions of women whose bodies knew how to give birth instinctively.
That’s the secret.
And there is no leaving of legacies without this crucial part of the process.
Legacy-makers cannot birth new stars into the ancient Universe with structure and brains alone.
Legacy makers give A LOT of their time, energy, heart, & soul to others on a daily basis. The selfish periods, though rare, are crucial. They ensure we can keep giving at that level for the long term.
Otherwise we burn out and the legacy goes up in flames.
So for now, I have many emails to get back to.
Calls to friends I still owe.
Meetings with people I have wanted to meet that I probably won’t schedule until I feel ready.
Issues to resolve with people that will just have to wait until I have the energy to devote to it.
They will just have to forgive me and wait.
I only have energy for myself right now.
I am letting go of the little obligations I feel to check in with people I love, to send presents for holidays or birthdays. I didn’t send a single Christmas present out this year. I’ll send those out sometime in January. People who love you won’t care. Trust me.
I’m not as present as I usually am on social media. The world has continued turning on Facebook without me.
Just like the lands that I love, I am drawing my burned roots in towards myself as they alchemize the soil in preparation for lushness to bloom.
And I know, as always, that when you and I, the legacy-makers, allow this…
something astounding will be born.
Something greater than our brilliant minds can ever imagine.
What most resonated for you in this piece? Have you been trying to figure something out that just needs some space? I’d love to know more in the comments below.