Doing my taxes yesterday, I felt the energy waver near my right ear. There was a disturbance in the force.
BECAUSE A SPIDER WAS TRYING TO RAPPEL DOWN THE SIDE OF MY HEAD.
After a panicked flail that ended with me sticking my head out the window and shaking my hair vigorously, I realized there are few things more nightmarish than becoming a jungle gym for an arachnid while doing your taxes.
Spiders sound like an absolutely dreadful spirit animal, but it turns out they're actually a symbol of creativity and your ability to weave your own destiny. On the shadow side - and I do love playing in the shadows - spiders point to places in your soul and psyche where you feel unworthy. To repressed aspects of ourselves that need to come to light in order for us to live fully.
Turns out, scary-bug-with-terrible-timing knows what's up. The past two weeks have been a whirling maelstrom showing me where my deepest shame is still hiding - in my fear of charging for what I do, in my worry that I won't earn enough to support myself, in my jealousy of other writers who seem to get what I want so easily, in my sticky need for the outward trappings of success even if they're simply a new client or likes on a Facebook post.
Shame is like an unholy marriage of black tar and quicksand that will suck you down if you stick your foot in it.
But the beauty is that all of that murky shame is coming up to be processed. We're all on the verge of transcending where we have been. And the new won't let us drag in the old. So we've been purging. I've seen this in almost everyone I've spoken with lately. We're shedding our old patterns and preparing ourselves. We don't yet know what, precisely, we're preparing ourselves for, but it feels like it's going to be beyond anything we've yet seen. So the dark is floating to the light to be transformed.
Surrender is key for me right now. Surrendering my desire to know how it will all work out, surrendering my plans and schemes to game the system and make it work for me, surrendering my control. So I can let my path unfold before me the way it's meant without letting my human brain and ego stifle the journey.
I have absolutely no idea what's coming next, as much as I'd like to plan for it, as much as I'd like to manipulate it so that my future happens the way I envision. But that's not what this time is about. This time is about cracking ourselves open to the light that's here and letting it flood through us. Surrendering to the flood and trusting what comes next.
So ... thanks, spider. Stay out of my hair next time.