The Art of the Slow Undoing
Lunar Sentinel
I rest beneath the gaze of the moon.
Bathed in light not of this world,
I surrender to sleep and receive
what only dreams can teach.
October Greetings!
I’m writing this beneath the October Full Moon. Her light feels like a mirror, reflecting all that’s been transforming beneath the surface. Her light tunes me into a whole new octave of personal integration and transformation. Not the tidy kind of integration where everything clicks into place, but a sweeping, cellular recalibration, as if my old stories, coping mechanisms, and inherited patterns are surfacing not just to be seen, but to be broken down to their component parts, to be composted. This undoing feels both personal and ancestral. As I create space for this to all go to mulch, I can hear the grand lineage of women before me whisper: "We’ve held this long enough. You can set it down now."
As I experience this deep and sacred uprooting, everything in the world is moving so fast, the energy, the news, the pace of living. My nervous system often joins that current, spinning like a wheel that forgot how to stop. But October calls me back into practice: to notice when I’m speeding, to pause, to breathe, to remember that stillness isn’t a weakness, it’s a reclamation. Sometimes the slowing feels like trying to halt a freight train mid-run. Other times, it’s a soft exhale. And in between, the practice is simply noticing, again and again, how I meet myself and this moment.
This all serves to remind me that the slowing, the healing we do now, ripples backward and forward through time. Even the micro-pauses, the gentler choices, the acts of repair have an impact. Each time we soften the old response, we mend something in the fabric of our lineage. Each time we tend to our own hearts, we offer rest to those who came before us and to those still to come.
May this October be a season of graceful unspooling, of letting go, of re-membering, of choosing stillness again, as an honoring of the slow, sacred undoing of the burdens handed down to us. I’d love to hear from you! Write back and share your reflections.
Much love to you and your spirit,
Sara
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