Doing without doing. Achieving without trying. A new level that I have to navigate within my life, as one era concludes I must familiarise, and become comfortable - competent even, dwelling within this plateau.
'She just falls into it'. Over the past months I have found myself remarking that things are or will 'fall/ing together' and whilst I chide myself each time I say it for poor grammar, I find it to be true. It's like things falling into your lap. There isn't so much the feeling of things coming together, for with that there is usually some vision, a point at which you can see the elements beginning or about to coalesce. I return to this expression as it feels to be the truest expression of what I am commenting on, things coming together in a seemingly abstract way that could not have been predicted. It is my way of expressing the random: it just happened and it all worked out.
As I move beyond survival, surviving and just getting, by I have felt the need to work on my root chakra (aritu?) as I am aware that I have been held hostage by feelings of fear, insecurity and powerlessness. The feeling that I had no firm foundation upon which to stand. So I recognise the importance of grounding and centring with new appropriate energies that reflect where I'm going and not where I've been.
'Revelation can't be worked up, conjured or forced'. For the longest time I have been trying, trying so hard. So hard to get things right, so hard to invoke change. After having a lot beaten out of me I was too exhausted to try, I needed to recoup my energies, and as I stopped trying things started happening. Everything truly happens within its own time. And as I shed my emotional and spiritual burdens the synchronicities started to turn up. At first I thought I was tripping, but eventually I started to see it was real. Things that used to happen occasionally, open the book at the exact page that I want, happen with increasing frequency and I am struck by what flows through when I'm not trying. This evening my mother and I were discussing the origin of the African surname Owusu. I thought the name was Ghanaian whereas my Mother had an old Nigerian colleague with the surname. A little research informed me that the name is Ghanaian originating from the Akan people. Sometime later I was browsing through Instagram and stopped at a captivating image of a sister. The image was accompanied by a lengthy poem penned by a woman with the name Owusu! I smiled. Synchronicities are now a daily occurrence and I wonder if this is what happens when you free yourself of all the dead weight, the stuff that weighs you down but serves no purpose.