Tomorrow I start over.
From my song Next Rung, on the album Mirror, Mirror Off The Wall. Abraham Hicks teaches the emotional ladder. I can't jump from despair to joy. I have to climb one rung at a time. Some days I climb. Some days I slip. Some days I fall back to where I started. But the ladder keeps extending. And tomorrow, I start over. My legs get stronger anyway.
Adore the sun.
I think about the cats. They follow the sun spots across the house throughout the day. They find the warm patches and they settle in. They know the sun is good for them. Everything reaches for the light.
There is something ancient and simple about turning my face toward the sun and letting it remind me that I am alive. That I'm a part of all of this.
I didn't know what a solar adoration was until my husband showed me the Resh. I had no idea there was a daily practice of greeting the sun at dawn, noon, sunset, and midnight. It sounded like a lot. But I was curious. I like something somatic, something simple, something that brings me back to my body.
The original ritual is full of old, big words that I didn't understand at first. That's why I wrote the album Adore The Sun. I wanted to translate it into something I could feel. I wanted to understand what the words I was saying actually meant.
The first half of each song is the original verse. The second half is my interpretation.
I greet the sun when I can. I forget some days. I start over the next day
Crow circles what's worth guarding.
From the Mom Magick Ritual of Protection, my adaptation of the LBRP. A reminder that I have a field worth protecting. That I get to choose what enters my space and what stays out. That I am allowed to guard my own energy. That I am not alone. I am safe.
In my ritual, the crow is the one who circles what matters. It is the part of me that sees clearly, that doesn't flinch at the hard things, that stays present and watches. Crows are loyal. They remember faces. They hold funerals for their dead. They don't pretend grief isn't there. They are witnesses and protectors.
The crow is the part of me that knows my own boundaries. It knows when something needs guarding and when it's safe to let go. It circles what is worth protecting — my energy, my space, my peace.
It's a way of saying: I am paying attention. I am protected. I am not alone.
Trust the feeling.
I spent a long time not trusting my own feelings. I second-guessed myself. I was told I was too sensitive, too much, a hot head. I learned to stuff my emotions down and smile so I could be good. I didn't trust my gut at all.
That's the thing about learning to trust the feeling. It's not just about the good ones. It's about learning to trust all of them. My anger, my sadness, my fear. They're all telling me something. A boundary has been crossed. A need isn't being met. Something needs to shift.
Louise Hay taught me to look deeper at my body. She showed a map that connected my chronic migraines, my IBS, fibromyalgia, my whole slough of symptoms to emotional patterns I hadn't been able to feel.
The anger I was stuffing down was showing up in my body. The feelings I was ignoring were becoming pain.
I’m learning to trust the feeling means learning to listen to my body instead of overriding it.
It means sitting with the emotion long enough to hear what it's trying to tell me. Asking the pain what it’s trying to tell me. Asking myself, ‘what am I holding on to?’
It means giving myself permission to feel without self judgment.
Abraham Hicks talks about following the good feeling. I can't force myself to be happy. But I can find the next best feeling. I can go sit on the balcony for a few minutes and not be needed. I can take an extra long bath. I can pause and breathe and ask myself what I need in this moment. That's following the feeling. That's trusting the guidance.
Feel it all the way through.
I love the idea that I don't have to fix the feeling or escape it. I was taught to stuff it. Smile. Be good. Now I've learned that I just have to feel it all the way through.
That's what the emotional ladder taught me. I couldn't get to hope until I had felt my anger. Anger moved me out of depression. It gave me permission to move from not wanting to be alive to finally getting into it. Then it led to frustration, which led to boredom, which led to hope. Each feeling was a rung. None of them were wrong. No steps were wasted.
The feeling will move on its own when I stop fighting it. My son shows me that every day. He feels so deeply and expresses it so passionately. And then when he is done, he is on to the next thing. No holding. No punishing himself for having the feeling. He just moves through it.
These are some lines that resonate with me. I thought someone else might need them too. If you do, they're here. And if you don't, that's okay too. I mostly just wanted to put the thoughts out there.
Thank you for looking.
🐦⬛
Product Description:
Lightweight, sturdy, and easy to put on. With a scratch and UV-resistant coating and a glossy finish, these pin buttons are made to last.
• Set of 5
• Made of tinplate
• Scratch and UV-resistant mylar coating
• Glossy finish
• Easy to put on
Age restrictions: For adults
EU Warranty: 2 years
Other compliance information: Meets the flammability, lead, cadmium, mercury, nickel, phthalates, organotin, Polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons, small parts, sharp edges and sharp point level requirements.
In compliance with the General Product Safety Regulation (GPSR), Oak inc. and SINDEN VENTURES LIMITED ensure that all consumer products offered are safe and meet EU standards. For any product safety related inquiries or concerns, please contact our EU representative at gpsr@sindenventures.com. You can also write to us at 123 Main Street, Anytown, Country or Markou Evgenikou 11, Mesa Geitonia, 4002, Limassol, Cyprus.
Tomorrow I start over.
From my song Next Rung, on the album Mirror, Mirror Off The Wall. Abraham Hicks teaches the emotional ladder. I can't jump from despair to joy. I have to climb one rung at a time. Some days I climb. Some days I slip. Some days I fall back to where I started. But the ladder keeps extending. And tomorrow, I start over. My legs get stronger anyway.
Adore the sun.
I think about the cats. They follow the sun spots across the house throughout the day. They find the warm patches and they settle in. They know the sun is good for them. Everything reaches for the light.
There is something ancient and simple about turning my face toward the sun and letting it remind me that I am alive. That I'm a part of all of this.
I didn't know what a solar adoration was until my husband showed me the Resh. I had no idea there was a daily practice of greeting the sun at dawn, noon, sunset, and midnight. It sounded like a lot. But I was curious. I like something somatic, something simple, something that brings me back to my body.
The original ritual is full of old, big words that I didn't understand at first. That's why I wrote the album Adore The Sun. I wanted to translate it into something I could feel. I wanted to understand what the words I was saying actually meant.
The first half of each song is the original verse. The second half is my interpretation.
I greet the sun when I can. I forget some days. I start over the next day
Crow circles what's worth guarding.
From the Mom Magick Ritual of Protection, my adaptation of the LBRP. A reminder that I have a field worth protecting. That I get to choose what enters my space and what stays out. That I am allowed to guard my own energy. That I am not alone. I am safe.
In my ritual, the crow is the one who circles what matters. It is the part of me that sees clearly, that doesn't flinch at the hard things, that stays present and watches. Crows are loyal. They remember faces. They hold funerals for their dead. They don't pretend grief isn't there. They are witnesses and protectors.
The crow is the part of me that knows my own boundaries. It knows when something needs guarding and when it's safe to let go. It circles what is worth protecting — my energy, my space, my peace.
It's a way of saying: I am paying attention. I am protected. I am not alone.
Trust the feeling.
I spent a long time not trusting my own feelings. I second-guessed myself. I was told I was too sensitive, too much, a hot head. I learned to stuff my emotions down and smile so I could be good. I didn't trust my gut at all.
That's the thing about learning to trust the feeling. It's not just about the good ones. It's about learning to trust all of them. My anger, my sadness, my fear. They're all telling me something. A boundary has been crossed. A need isn't being met. Something needs to shift.
Louise Hay taught me to look deeper at my body. She showed a map that connected my chronic migraines, my IBS, fibromyalgia, my whole slough of symptoms to emotional patterns I hadn't been able to feel.
The anger I was stuffing down was showing up in my body. The feelings I was ignoring were becoming pain.
I’m learning to trust the feeling means learning to listen to my body instead of overriding it.
It means sitting with the emotion long enough to hear what it's trying to tell me. Asking the pain what it’s trying to tell me. Asking myself, ‘what am I holding on to?’
It means giving myself permission to feel without self judgment.
Abraham Hicks talks about following the good feeling. I can't force myself to be happy. But I can find the next best feeling. I can go sit on the balcony for a few minutes and not be needed. I can take an extra long bath. I can pause and breathe and ask myself what I need in this moment. That's following the feeling. That's trusting the guidance.
Feel it all the way through.
I love the idea that I don't have to fix the feeling or escape it. I was taught to stuff it. Smile. Be good. Now I've learned that I just have to feel it all the way through.
That's what the emotional ladder taught me. I couldn't get to hope until I had felt my anger. Anger moved me out of depression. It gave me permission to move from not wanting to be alive to finally getting into it. Then it led to frustration, which led to boredom, which led to hope. Each feeling was a rung. None of them were wrong. No steps were wasted.
The feeling will move on its own when I stop fighting it. My son shows me that every day. He feels so deeply and expresses it so passionately. And then when he is done, he is on to the next thing. No holding. No punishing himself for having the feeling. He just moves through it.
These are some lines that resonate with me. I thought someone else might need them too. If you do, they're here. And if you don't, that's okay too. I mostly just wanted to put the thoughts out there.
Thank you for looking.
🐦⬛
Product Description:
Lightweight, sturdy, and easy to put on. With a scratch and UV-resistant coating and a glossy finish, these pin buttons are made to last.
• Set of 5
• Made of tinplate
• Scratch and UV-resistant mylar coating
• Glossy finish
• Easy to put on
Age restrictions: For adults
EU Warranty: 2 years
Other compliance information: Meets the flammability, lead, cadmium, mercury, nickel, phthalates, organotin, Polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons, small parts, sharp edges and sharp point level requirements.
In compliance with the General Product Safety Regulation (GPSR), Oak inc. and SINDEN VENTURES LIMITED ensure that all consumer products offered are safe and meet EU standards. For any product safety related inquiries or concerns, please contact our EU representative at gpsr@sindenventures.com. You can also write to us at 123 Main Street, Anytown, Country or Markou Evgenikou 11, Mesa Geitonia, 4002, Limassol, Cyprus.
