ALEXANDRIA'S ALCHEMY
ALEXANDRIA'S ALCHEMY
The Endless Journey of Self-Reflection and Release
The partial solar eclipse in Aries has me feeling intensely today. Any undercurrent in the background has been amplified. Feelings I thought were long gone have resurfaced again, demanding to be processed. It’s very annoying; however, they are meant to be re-examined. What actions do I take, if any at all? Or should I pivot, kick sand over my footprints, and head in another direction? Can I temper my propensity to be retrospective enough to truly achieve a reset? Regardless, the re-emergence of certain ideas, emotions, and feelings is a stark reminder of a divine truth:
There is no destination.
Mandelbrot Fractal
That idea can be freeing. We can make peace with the narrative structure of life and embrace the ebb and flow. Some things will be great, and some will be tragic. There will be ups and downs. All the laws of the universe—like correspondence, polarity, and duality—will continue to reveal the micro and macrocosm.
One truth that is certainly annoying is that when it comes to grief, there is no destination.
Of course, circumstances can make a difference. You can get over losing a job, come to terms with your high school days being over, or even move on from an ex. But there are certain types of grief that do not have a destination.
For instance, I talked about how I still get unexpectedly triggered by the passing of my grade school friend, Cherish. Certain emotions resurface when I hear about domestic violence or see someone who reminds me of her, and I think, Damn, have I not processed this yet? What do I need to do or say to stop crying about this? Then I am reminded—there is no destination.
I think of the Mandelbrot set or a Russian doll when it comes to emotions. There always seems to be another layer, another angle, a micro to the macro. This is what this eclipse—and even retrograde—has taught me. It is amplifying the world within worlds, the snake eating itself, the idea of infinity as it pertains to certain emotions.
The words, When you stop longing, you can grieve, came to me just now.
There are many things to grieve, and those things deserve to be processed, not pushed down. Regardless of the amazing lives we live—with fortune, access, and convenience—we still carry things with us. Things still trigger us and always will, and that is okay. We can surrender.
We can ask ourselves: What was the event? What was the impact or outcome? What is the story we told ourselves to feel good or safe? What are we avoiding? What does grief look like?
What does it mean to process something when the thoughts have no end? What does it mean when you’ve dropped the weight in the 3D, but you’re still being nagged in the 5D? How much more time does grief take?
Ultimately, we may never find a neat and tidy conclusion to our grief. The layers will unfold endlessly, and we must learn to coexist with the discomfort, the memories, and the unanswered questions. Healing is not a linear journey but a spiral, guiding us deeper with each turn.
Understanding the Cosmic Dance Through Psychedelic Experiences
Speaking of macrocosm and microcosm, the first time I got high (from weed), I was out of there. I experienced a loop where I felt like I was going in and out of myself. Not my etheric body, but there is a rhythm to the universe, and I felt it. It was like a sensation of being turned in and out of yourself infinitely. When people create trippy art or videos, they capture that rhythm perfectly. It’s like zooming into a picture to find another picture, and another, and another. It was a physical experience of the Mandelbrot set or even the Fibonacci sequence.
The Endless Journey of Self-Reflection and Release
The partial solar eclipse in Aries has me feeling intensely today. Any undercurrent in the background has been amplified. Feelings I thought were long gone have resurfaced again, demanding to be processed. It’s very annoying; however, they are meant to be re-examined. What actions do I take, if any at all? Or should I pivot, kick sand over my footprints, and head in another direction? Can I temper my propensity to be retrospective enough to truly achieve a reset? Regardless, the re-emergence of certain ideas, emotions, and feelings is a stark reminder of a divine truth:
There is no destination.
That idea can be freeing. We can make peace with the narrative structure of life and embrace the ebb and flow. Some things will be great, and some will be tragic. There will be ups and downs. All the laws of the universe—like correspondence, polarity, and duality—will continue to reveal the micro and macrocosm.
One truth that is certainly annoying is that when it comes to grief, there is no destination.
Of course, circumstances can make a difference. You can get over losing a job, come to terms with your high school days being over, or even move on from an ex. But there are certain types of grief that do not have a destination.
For instance, I talked about how I still get unexpectedly triggered by the passing of my grade school friend, Cherish. Certain emotions resurface when I hear about domestic violence or see someone who reminds me of her, and I think, Damn, have I not processed this yet? What do I need to do or say to stop crying about this? Then I am reminded—there is no destination.
I think of the Mandelbrot set or a Russian doll when it comes to emotions. There always seems to be another layer, another angle, a micro to the macro. This is what this eclipse—and even retrograde—has taught me. It is amplifying the world within worlds, the snake eating itself, the idea of infinity as it pertains to certain emotions.
The words, When you stop longing, you can grieve, came to me just now.
There are many things to grieve, and those things deserve to be processed, not pushed down. Regardless of the amazing lives we live—with fortune, access, and convenience—we still carry things with us. Things still trigger us and always will, and that is okay. We can surrender.
We can ask ourselves: What was the event? What was the impact or outcome? What is the story we told ourselves to feel good or safe? What are we avoiding? What does grief look like?
What does it mean to process something when the thoughts have no end? What does it mean when you’ve dropped the weight in the 3D, but you’re still being nagged in the 5D? How much more time does grief take?
Ultimately, we may never find a neat and tidy conclusion to our grief. The layers will unfold endlessly, and we must learn to coexist with the discomfort, the memories, and the unanswered questions. Healing is not a linear journey but a spiral, guiding us deeper with each turn.
Understanding the Cosmic Dance Through Psychedelic Experiences
Speaking of macrocosm and microcosm, the first time I got high (from weed), I was out of there. I experienced a loop where I felt like I was going in and out of myself. Not my etheric body, but there is a rhythm to the universe, and I felt it. It was like a sensation of being turned in and out of yourself infinitely. When people create trippy art or videos, they capture that rhythm perfectly. It’s like zooming into a picture to find another picture, and another, and another. It was a physical experience of the Mandelbrot set or even the Fibonacci sequence.