Post-Eclipse Musings
I’ve been reflecting a lot on fear lately, particularly how it intertwines with the concept of binaries.
In this post-eclipse season, I’ve found myself reconnecting with my own body - the vessel that carries me through this life - and its deep, primal fear of darkness. It’s a fear rooted in our most ancient, mammalian instincts, the kind that stirs when the sun, the very center of our solar system, is momentarily obscured.
The luminaries of our solar system are the two most important planetary bodies - the sun and the moon. In astrology, the moon represents the body. It is also the body closest to Terra, our planet, is responsible for the earth’s tides and affects humans the most. Whether we see an eclipse or not, our body knows when something is out of balance, being obscured (eclipsed), experiencing unsteady power surges.
This reflection took me back to a poem I wrote years ago, titled Courage. It was about a friend who became a lover and then returned to being just a friend. The love is there still, the lived experience not so much.
Writing that poem made me consider how people perceive me.
I’m often seen as brave, fearless, someone who takes no shit and boldly does what she wants. But the truth is far more complex. I’ve lived most of my life in fear. Fear that has followed me through this lifetime and possibly even from past lives (hello, witch wound).
For much of my life, walking down the street felt like a risky venture, as if danger lurked around every corner. And in some cases, it wasn’t just a feeling. There have been people in my life who literally wanted to harm me, some of them succeeding. There have been times when I did NOT leave the house, in fear of being persecuted, in fear that someone is around the corner, waiting to harm me.
This has left me with a level of skittishness that I’m still unraveling, dealing with, trying to ground.
Despite these fears, I continue to move forward.
I refuse to let fear define me.
I won’t hide away in my house because the outside world seems unsafe, and I certainly won’t conceal my magic just because it might make others uncomfortable.
Even on days when I don’t feel safe, I choose to speak out. I hold both truths within me—the awareness of my fear and the belief that I should be able to express myself freely. Which is exactly what courage is: being scared and doing the thing anyway.
This brings me to a realization: the opposite of fear isn’t courage or the absence of fear; it’s love. If your love for something is stronger than your fear of it, then love will ultimately prevail.
Caveat: this doesn’t apply to every situation, particularly not in the case of Twin Flame relationships!
On our spiritual journey, we aren’t ruled by our emotions.
We have the power to choose how we respond, to act in alignment with our true selves rather than being dictated by our feelings in the moment. This is no small task, but it’s a vital part of the path to self-empowerment. For someone like me, who has lived much of her life in fear, cultivating this kind of spiritual strength is one of my highest values.
Through love, all things are possible.
It’s love that gives us the courage to confront our fears and transcend them.
It’s love that guides us on our journey of spiritual healing, empowering us to live authentically and without apology.
And it’s love that allows us to embrace the full spectrum of our experiences, both the light and the dark, the wanted and the unwanted, the visible and the invisible.
With perfect love and perfect trust.
As we continue on this path, may we all find the spiritual strength to choose love over fear, to heal ourselves and, in doing so, contribute to the healing of the world around us.