Can We Trust in the Crumbling?


The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become.

~ Charles DuBois

Once a month I am taken into the hands of the feminine cycle, the crumbling grasps of those feelings, those inadequacies, those doubts and insecurities. Time and time again I wonder why they are necessary. I make fun of them, I beg them to go away—I attempt to rise above them, I try to deaden them from occurring.

How can I continue about my busy routine if I feel these ways? Surely I’m just missing how to eliminate them; I’ve been searching for the trick for awhile now. Yet, still I have not found it.

My frustration reached it’s peak just today, as I wondered how it could possibly be necessary to feel so uprooted and yanked from my center for almost a week every month. That’s 25%! That’s time I need to be accomplishing! 

The times when just being would serve me most, when I feel farthest from my center—are the times I resist the hardest. Go figure.

Then the universe laughed at me—it gave me a demand, and so I had to listen. After denying myself these last few days the relaxation and quiet reflection that I so badly needed, (yet still accomplishing nothing except for feeling terribly restless and out of sorts), I decided to sit in my sacred space, to sit and just listen. to whatever could come.

It didn’t last long; I saw my sacred geometry deck: “ooh! I’ll pick a card that can help me focus my intentions for when this time of feeling like a mess is over! What a great idea.”

So, I carefully selected my card, and eagerly turned to the page in the book which would inform me of my next action. The explanation was one sentence:

“The downward tetrahedron is water, passive and feminine. This is a time of rest, no action is indicated.”

I stared at the page, and finally began to laugh…and laugh and laugh.

Well fine. Okay. I will do what I said I would do. I will sit and be with myself as I am. 

Cozying up I lit a few candles, and sat in the quiet, watching the flames flicker. Instantly I felt calm, at home, and decided to stay awhile. I began to reflect, and pose inquiries into my condition, into why this week we likely all dread had to keep happening…

Once a month, I crumble.

Feelings, emotions, fears rise, in their grandest form, allowing me to witness them at their strongest. In line with nature, this crumbling happens just before the new moon, a time of setting new intention, of releasing what no longer serves.

Yet i’ve denied myself seeing the beauty and the gift in this cycle.

Once a month I crumble, and in that harshness I am given the opportunity to birth new transformation, if I will allow what no longer serves me to die. To pass. To be released. I am blessed to experience this cycle, like clockwork, every month. Each 28 days, an opportunity.

Once a month, I crumble and can choose to rise from the ashes, changed.

Every month the shadowy bits I so often like to deny, so often pretend are not me, put themselves in my face.

As a human, it is easy to choose to turn away from them in favor of eating my feelings, or trying to stay busy—never stopping to feel, we work hard to distant ourselves and avoid what feels uncomfortable.

But instead,

Could we trust in the crumbling?

Could we recognize that if anything is divine, everything is?

Could we witness all of ourselves, and in that awareness choose  to stick around, rather than shove away?

Allowing what no longer serves us to fall away can only happen if we don’t turn away.

It is only what we are conscious of that we are free to transform.

Only in seeing all of ourselves: the beauty and the fears, doubts, suppressions—all of it, are we free to break free of unconscious response, and set a new intent.

When this week appears, can we cease resistance, can we stop trying to climb away from reflecting and being with the unique offerings of the time?

Can we set down our busy hats, even for just a little while, and feel the nature of the time—allowing ourselves reflection and relaxation?

Can we recognize the beauty of the ebb and allow ourselves to crumble, bringing awareness to what no longer serves us and releasing the “us” we are today, in exchange for giving birth to our next best selves?

I believe we can, if we don’t turn away. If we have the courage to sit with ourselves as we show up—and once the storm passes, the willingness to carry the wisdom of our shadows forward into our own transformation.

“One moment you are the wave, another moment you are the hollow wake that follows. Enjoy both—don’t get addicted to one. Don’t say ‘I would always like to be on the peak.’ It is not possible.”



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