This morning I woke up with David Bowie in my head:

Ground Control to Major Tom. Take your protein pills and put your helmet on.

It struck me as more than a song lyric. It felt like a transmission for the moment.

In preparation for our Year of the FireHorse retreat, Jessica (my collaborator) and I went on a Shamanic  journey to meet the spirit of the Fire Horse for the first time. The experience was overwhelmingly beautiful.  Not chaotic, not theatrical, but deeply alive and coherent.

On self-attunement, visible initiation, and embodied becoming

At the turn of this year, I found myself remembering a way of standing.

Not a posture.
Not a role.
Not a title.

As we approach the Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year and the deepest inward turn, I’ve been listening closely to what wants to be offered without refinement.

This week, that offering came as my mother’s song.

The truth was: I wasn’t okay.
This is my first holiday without my mom.
Grief was sitting just under my skin, quiet but insistent.