I look out the stone window onto the crystalline, placid sea like the figure in the tarot’s Three of Wands, ready to receive the incoming ships and all the adventurous merchants with stories and treasures of their own. I whisper to myself and breathe in, with excitement — and relief: I can’t believe it.
But truth is I can.
This little moment of triumph has been earned. Every single ounce of it. Coming to this place of arrival is deserved. I was always worthy of it. I am worthy of it now. In fact, I am worthy of more.
It took a lot from me to get to this point that has always been mine. Some of us can hop right to what we want — an instant match. Life flows easy, like magic. You snap your fingers and voilà, here you are: your desire served to you on a silver platter.
What about the moments when it’s not so easy? The wild quantum leap not as achievable? If you somehow manage to do it, you find that you’ve snapped back just as quickly and have gnarly bruises to boot. Traversing the distance between where you are and what you desire is painful, isn’t it? That shift requires stretch. You have to be stretched. Otherwise, you won’t be able to hold more.
There is a Bible verse about wine skins that I have been thinking of often. Mark 2:22.
And no one pours new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and both the wine and the wineskins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins.
I can’t get out of this body, not that I ultimately want to. It’s a gift, a wondrous one at that. So it begs the question: how do I make of myself a new wineskin?
I glance down at my olive skin. It regenerates itself. The little paper cut I got a few days ago, now gone. I breathe in knowing that the wineskin builds itself. The transformation happens, guaranteed, but slowly.
Earlier this year, I had the realization that I was done with the job I had. It did not pay well. I felt like a caged animal on a sinking ship. I talked about this with my partner, and he (bless him, he’s so supportive) encouraged me to dream bigger. Get out of there. I took the advice, though the responsibility for navigating my life rests on me. In other words, I couldn’t blame what came after on anyone but myself, if there’s any blame to cast.
Leaving felt good.
I was sure that the universe would catch me and I would finally be able to be in a position of ease and resonance.
Things didn’t go as planned. Everything froze. I was walking through molasses. Ah, but tomorrow, tomorrow, I’ll finally get the documents I need, the money I need, I’d tell myself like a mantra. Tomorrow would come and still, I’d be there. Stuck, uninspired. Increasingly worried, I dug through my mental archives to see why this failed, and what I could do about it.
You see, I had tried this before. Making the leap. I fell so very hard. To be frank, I am shocked I survived that period of my life. Back then, I was deep into Goddard and the school of new thought. If I can imagine it repeatedly, then it must be so. I’d do that and write and rewrite my scripts of my desired life. At the very essence of it, however, I didn’t believe my imaginings. I was there in my mind’s eye, but the rest of me still rooted in the undesired circumstances, and I couldn’t let go of the fear. The fear of failing gripped me so hard that I had trouble sleeping.
I failed. That aforementioned fear? A self-fulfilling prophecy. My ship was wrecked. With my head barely above water, I talked myself through it: Ok, that didn’t work. Let’s clean out my living space. Let’s leave behind these rituals I have been building up for months. Let’s donate books. We can start again. We can build anew.
Some lucky person out here has a beautifully bound book of Hekate, another one has a bunch of my oils and herbs.
I didn’t know it then, but I was setting the table. Sloppily, chaotically. Sometimes using broken plates or mismatched silverware. But still, a table.
Time marched on, and I found myself in a similar position. This time, the desire was firmed in structure. I had my partner (a childhood friend; long-distance relationship for now), whom I trust deeply, carefully rewoven into the fabric of my life. I knew exactly what I wanted, and by Jove, I’d get it. I had a clear picture of the woman I wanted to be. So imagine my surprise when despite all the prep, despite the strenuous physical labor every week, I found myself floundering yet again. What was I doing wrong?!
I looked into manifesting forums and books, expecting that someone else’s phrases might be my magical key. It didn’t work as intended, but choosing new thoughts, even when the affirmations felt foreign, opened doors. When I felt anxious, I soothed myself with ‘I am held in warmth,’ one of my most comforting affirmations. This honesty — becoming aware of the fear and gently flipping it — opened the creaky door more and more, leading to deeper explorations. Why exactly am I repeating the same patterns? Why is there such famine when I have experienced feast before?
Well, my inner voice seemed to say, let’s explore why. I woke up one morning in such intense dread that I immediately went to YouTube for comfort. I found a video by Amber Akilla where she goes over habits that helped her go from flop to slay. Meditation was one, keeping track of goals and habits is another one. She offers printable on her website — one of them, the “slay bingo”.
Heck, I’d do anything to not feel miserable anymore.
I downloaded the printables (thanks Amber) and put them in my Goodnotes. I dedicated a good chunk of my day to filling out the boxes. I gave myself a free space in the middle, of course. I allotted two months for this campaign. I chose treats to self that I’d get if I completed each row, column, and diagonal. If I fill out the whole card? A trip to Nepal.
I set the intention of meditating for 20 minutes right after I wake up. Not going to lie — the first week I would drift back into sleep. And I would dream. I love dreams so this was a boon. Even so, I wanted to be present for myself so I sought advice. Sit up. Readjust the pillow so that you are inclined not flat. Just breathe. You don’t have to do anything, say anything. When I approached meditation like this, I found it to be less daunting.
Baby steps, baby. Baby steps. I think the animal self (the body) and the brilliant mind that picks up things it shouldn’t (only does as well as I tell it too — responsibility always comes back to me) just wants to know that I am here.
Present. Listening, tending. Just being.
I am nothing but obsessive and hyper-fixated on what I want, what I am interested in, so I kept working on my desires. Like paying dues, I applied to other jobs and took what what I could, accepting once again that my way back home was delayed. This time I chose to believe it was a matter of time — not a no.
Yet the money flow remained scant, blocked. What gives?
One of the slay bingo card spaces was to finish Mirror Work by Louise Hays. In all transparency, I did nine days and no more. I received what I was meant to from Hay’s teaching: be kind to yourself, in speech and in thought. She didn’t require more, and I realized the workbook wasn’t meant to be fully completed for me. Each day, I used tarot as a second mirror, digging deep to uncover lingering fears. The crashouts were devastating, but after the tears, after literally hugging myself and holding myself in mind, I emerged steadier. My affirmations became more me, crafted with my own voice. Sometimes, usually, a simple, definitive ‘I am’ hits just right. I pivoted naturally from the workbook to a task that resonated more fully: completing my novel’s first draft.
I devoted my available moments to completing the bingo tasks. Funny, a bingo board became my lifeline — but you know what? If it works, it works. I and everything about me is worth climbing up, fighting for.
Scratch that.
Integrating for. I and everything about me are worth integrating. The only person I’ve been fighting all along was myself. One of the blanket affirmations that you hear a lot is ‘I am at peace with myself’. Before I was like, wtf is this going to do? But it’s everything. To be at peace with myself is bliss. I can create with greater flow now. I am no longer sucked into casting out parts of me, criticizing myself viciously, or self-sabotaging by blindly following what others say works for them. I have myself to go to first. Others’ realities don’t define mine; I create what is true for me.
The thought always leads. Thought awareness is key. Having achievable goals gives your existence zest — the joy you need to make that leap and stick the landing.
What happened next?
A writer writes, and influenced by Stephen King I have been chugging out 2k words daily for months now. Inspired by the bingo, I am exploring writing in other literary forms aside from the novel (which I still love). I am planning to cook up pollo alla cacciatora for my neighbors because it’s a delight to do so, and their friendship and care have been a balm for the days of rocky sailing. I am reading The Iliad again, not because I have to, but because I want to. I got Wilson’s translation just to see. I am sharing my inner world with you now. That’s embodiment too. I could live a hermit-like life, but the call to live vividly and in community is stronger.
I breathe out, excited — and relieved. I turn towards the table and let the tablecloth I have in my hands float down into position. I start placing bowls and chalices for we are feasting tonight.
I hear a knock at the door. It’s you.
“Oh hi there, welcome,” I say. A little early, but that’s ok. You enter, for you need a space to rest and know that peace is possible. I smile and offer a seat, then I lean in and ask, “Care for some Turkish delight? Let’s chat.”