I’ve been experiencing a slow dawn recently, as I’m starting to see how massive Samāveśa has become. She is throbbing with potential and until recently I was still viewing the School as my side gig. You know, just something I do on Sundays.

We all have resistance. And we all know that if we stay in resistance then realisation doesn’t get realised. The changes we want to make remain out of reach. The person we know we can be and all the potential that is simmering beneath the surface stays right there. Simmering, yearning, longing to be known.

It was something like early 2020 late 2019 and I had to be all over social media ‘selling’ the 2020 training. I hated it. Didn’t want to do it. I was in total resistance. Why can’t people just come? I don’t want to be on social media. Who the hell wants to listen to what I have to say. My life isn’t interesting. It’s narcissistic. I don’t want to play.

On the last day of this nourishing break with my badass bike gang girls, I decided to carry out a solo mushroom ceremony. It was an existential, diamond skied psychedelic ride that ended with me building an epic fire and chanting to Kali for quite a long time. Let’s just say that a whole lot of familiarity, safety, self images and ways of seeing have been thrown in the fire, as requested, and it’s been wild, intense, dark and revelatory.

These seedlings would never grow if I didn’t make space, turn the soil, feed the soil, plant them in the soil. And so, of course, I looked at this seemingly ordinary task through the lens of soul because I just can’t help myself.

The Tantrikas were absolute fucking wizards at this game. Because they knew it was a game. Whatever identity, self image or story you are currently attached to is, in some way, limiting you. In order to believe your stories or perform your roles you have to exclude all the others. But all the others are still there to be played with.

As we transition into eclipse season, I am tuning into these themes of old doors closing so new ones can open. And I am not surprised by the synchronicity of our monthly New Moon refuge, Hush, which launches on April 21st, the day after eclipse season begins.