There is a subtle but radical shift that happens the moment you stop abandoning yourself.
It doesn’t arrive with fireworks. It arrives quietly — in the pause before you say yes when you mean no. In the breath you take before overriding your intuition. In the decision to stay present with your own discomfort instead of performing, fixing, pleasing, or disappearing.
When you stop abandoning yourself, your whole essence changes.
Your nervous system softens. Your voice steadies. Your eyes become clearer. The lens through which you see your life sharpens into focus. You begin to notice what drains you and what enlivens you. You feel where your boundaries want to live. You sense when something is aligned — and when it isn’t.
And from that place, life begins to rise to meet you.
Not because life was withholding. Not because the universe was testing you. But because you’ve finally made space.
Space in your calendar.
Space in your body.
Space in your consciousness.
Space in your capacity.
So many of us have mastered survival.
We survive heartbreak. We survive burnout. We survive relationships that shrink us and roles that exhaust us. We survive by adapting, by coping, by becoming who we need to be to keep everything functioning.
But surviving isn’t the same as thriving.
Surviving often means overriding.
Thriving requires listening. Boundaries. Self love. Worthiness.
Surviving can look strong on the outside while slowly eroding you within. Thriving asks for alignment — for your inner and outer worlds to begin speaking the same language.
And that alignment almost always requires loss.
Loss is rarely just one clean emotion called grief. It is layered. Complex. Sometimes even liberating. It is the shedding of identities that once protected you but no longer serve you. It is the ending of dynamics that thrived on your self-abandonment. It is the composting of old narratives that keep you small: “I have to do it all.” “I can’t disappoint anyone.” “This is just how it is.”
When we allow what is withering to fully die, something miraculous happens.
What we release doesn’t disappear into nothingness. It returns to the soil. It composts. It becomes nourishment.
And suddenly, there is room.
Room for new desires to surface.
Room for relationships that meet you in mutuality.
Room for creativity.
Room for pleasure.
Room for rest.
The human experience was never meant to be a straight line of constant accumulation. It is cyclical. Spiral-shaped. A continual dance between endings and beginnings, contraction and expansion, descent and rise.
We revisit old themes — but from higher ground. We circle back to familiar wounds — but with greater awareness. The spiral does not repeat; it evolves.
When we engage this spiral consciously, we move from surviving our lives to participating in them.
This is the essence of true alchemy.
Not bypassing the ashes. Not clinging to what was. But stepping fully into the portal between death and rebirth — and trusting the intelligence of that threshold.
Practices that awaken the body — like kundalini activation — invite us into this spiral in a tangible way. Through breath, movement, and energy, we access what has been stored beneath the surface. We allow the dormant to awaken. We let stagnant emotion move. We open channels that have been constricted by years of survival.
It is not about becoming someone new.
It is about remembering who you were before you learned to abandon yourself.
This Saturday, March 7, we gather inside that threshold at ASHES TO ALCHEMY in collaboration with Distrikt F / Farasha, in celebration of International Women’s Day. Sixteen women. One intentional container. A portal for shedding, activation, and embodied transformation.
If you feel the quiet knowing that it’s time to move from surviving to thriving — to compost what is complete and make space for what is meant for you — consider this your invitation.
The spiral is always moving.
The only question is whether you are ready to move with it.
Wild Women Tribe 