Why shouldn’t I see all of life as an adventure, and approach each day as if I’m waking up somewhere rich with wonder and excitement?
My husband, The Aquarius, and I recently returned from our much-delayed honeymoon to South America. It was a magical, whirlwind trip that left my heart fulfilled, my spirit overwhelmed with lessons, and my body exhausted, but in that good kind of way. It’s never easy to come back from a trip, especially one that is so mind-opening and expansive, and also so different from the life that’s usually lived.
Leading up to the trip’s end, I found myself saying, “I don’t want to go back to my real life.” And my husband would usually respond with, “But this is your real life, honey”, leaving me to grumble. I of course knew what he meant but was being stubborn to the lesson. That there is no separation from the life lived in the routine day-to-day versus the life lived in a luxurious hotel nestled into the Sacred Valley of Peru. They may feel like complete polar opposites, but the experience is all mine. So by me separating it, I’m drawing a divide between the two that can be a detriment to my being. Why shouldn’t I see all of life as an adventure, and approach each day as if I’m waking up somewhere rich with wonder and excitement? I should always feel at home in my life, at all times, no matter the circumstances.
2018 is kicking off with a grand Full Moon in Cancer, all about our emotional connection to what makes us feel at home. In astrology, the moon is a reflection of how we love ourselves, and Cancer is the sign that she’s most comfortable in, so it’s where she’s most able to access her powers of sensitivity and self-care. On a full moon, we are meant to release whatever is left that is outdated and left behind from our most recent set of life lessons. With this one hitting at the turn of a new year, it only makes sense that we look at it as a release of what needs to go from 2017.
I can’t speak for you, but I’ve got a lot of emotional, spiritual, and mental baggage that could be unloaded before walking across 2018’s threshold. I don’t want to take any of the fear or the preconceived ideas with me. I’m happy to let go of the apathy and the sadness for choices being made for the world I live in without my consent. And I’m thrilled to say, “Bye bitch” to the need for approval or validation for any of the gifts, skills, and abilities that are simply mine to give unconditionally.
Cancer wants us to feel at home, wherever we are. So what old shit can you release that will allow you to feel more like you belong, without question or doubt or a sense that what you’re experiencing isn’t your “real life”? Because it’s true. This is all your real life. Every single moment of it. The good and the bad of your day to day job or home life. The secrets that you keep from your loved ones. The talents that shine from your heart. The worries that keep you up at night. The joyful celebrations and moments of laughter. It’s all a reflection of you.
But what’s also true is that you don’t have to let any of it define who you are.
Because with each day comes a birth. An opportunity to call forth a brand new version of you. One that’s improved on from the you that hit the pillow the night before. And your mind shouldn’t be allowed to cloud your spirit with troubled thoughts of “I should do better” or “why am I so behind” or “when’s it my turn” or “I don’t want to go back to my real life.” All of that fog is just gonna hold you back and keep you from embracing the “You” of right now. And you must embrace You, right now. Both the challenges and the brilliance. That’s the only way to see the full picture and take stock of what doesn’t fit anymore. Then you’ll know exactly what to pack up and get rid of so that you can dream a better day for yourself. You can make some space inside the home of your heart for what truly matters.
Self-love. Self-care. Self-worth.
With those, you can build a greater, stronger You for tomorrow.
Cancer rules water. And in Peru’s Sacred Valley, we got to sleep along the Urubamba River. It’s rippled sound soothed me, calling me home to the comfort of my heart. On my last day there, I sat and took a video of it, just so I could keep the sound and go back to it when needed. Now back in L.A., I pull it up when I need some peace. It helps me to be there and here now at the same time. And that is the lesson. I can be in the comfort of my heart, my home, wherever I am. Whether in traffic on Beverly Blvd or under a Peruvian sky. It all must be, or else I cannot be whole. And we can be whole. We don’t have to give into any idea that we are “broken.” All of our pieces are with us, ready to continue on, flowing into 2018, like a calm river traveling underneath the warm sun.
Illustration by Ian O’Phelan