Lately, I’ve been thinking about change. Not the kind we plan for, but the kind that sneaks in through the back door and quietly rearranges our lives. The kind that makes you hold your breath and whisper, I didn’t ask for this.
For most of my life, I’ve resisted change. Even small shifts-an unexpected cancellation, a new routine, a change of season-used to send ripples through my nervous system. I’d cling to what was familiar, even if it wasn’t working anymore, because at least it was known.
Underneath all of it was fear.
Fear of loss.
Fear of sickness.
Fear of the unknown.
Fear of fear itself.
Even fear of the smallest inconvenience, anything that reminded me that life moves whether I’m ready or not. Can you relate?
The Myth of Control
I used to think that if I could just plan well enough, I could keep everything steady. But life doesn’t bargain that way.
When change came, a shift in my work, a loved one’s health, a door closing before I was ready, I’d tighten my body and armor my heart. I’d tell myself, I’m fine. I can handle this. But beneath the surface, I was bracing for impact.
It wasn’t until I started looking more deeply, through my own healing work, that I realized change isn’t the enemy. My resistance to it was. How do you respond to change? Can you accept the raw emotion that surfaces when change feels “unfair” or “wrong”?
The Sacred Composting
In nature, nothing stays the same. Leaves decay to feed the soil. Stones change shape as they become worn with time. Rivers carve new paths. Whole mountains collapse under the weight of heavy snow. Even our cells are constantly dying and being reborn.
When I finally let myself soften into that truth, I began to see change differently, as a kind of sacred composting. What looks like loss is often the making of new soil. The self I was outgrows the space she lived in, and something deeper, truer, begins to emerge.
In shamanic traditions, we must intimately know the cycles of birth, death, and transformation. It happens continually, and until we find a way to accept this reality, life will feel difficult. This type of grasping, no matter the situation, is what restricts the flow of life, whereas radical acceptance gives way to the miracle of transition.
The Other Side
I won’t pretend it’s easy. I still have moments when I cling to what’s leaving, when I grieve what was comfortable. But I’ve also learned that every time I’ve surrendered to change, every time I’ve stopped fighting the current, life has carried me somewhere softer, more honest, more aligned.
These days, when things start shifting and I feel that old fear rise up, I take the “sacred pause”. I place my hand on my heart and whisper, I trust the unfolding, I got this, thank you, thank you”.
Because I’ve learned that even in the dismantling, life is trying to put me back together yet again, and the person I will become on the other side will be marvelous.
A Gentle Invitation
If you’re in a season of change right now, big or small, I hope you give yourself permission to slow down, breathe, and listen. Let the old fall away at its own pace. Let yourself be remade by what’s coming next.
Change is not the end of safety. It’s the path back to wholeness.
Deepest Munay,
Joaquina 🌙
