So, there I was. blissfully floating in the pool. Serenaded by a birdie choir. And dazzled by a crimson dragonfly fluttering by.

Suddenly, my bubble was burst as a yellow jacket’s stinger stabbed the tender crease of my inner left arm.

OW quickly became WOW.

In minutes, my arm turned tomato red and swelled up like a big fat sausage.

Besides the physical pain, that stinger penetrated layers of emotional pain that I didn’t even realize were there.

I found myself lost in a sea of tears (which was surprising as I’ve felt oddly optimistic and grounded during these shaky times.)

But that bee was a master acupuncturist.

With perfect aim, it stuck its one needle (uh, stinger) into the lung meridian which my human acupuncturist says is connected “grief” and “letting go.” .

No wonder I couldn’t stop crying about the state of the world, our country and a loved one’ s choices (I even cried about not being able to stop crying).

I tried to “snap out of it.”But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about grief, it’s that the only way out is to allow yourself to go in.

Instead of buzzing around with busyness, I sat in the discomfort of all the feelings that were coming up.

I let myself lie on the bed, soak in the tub and water the lawn with my tears.

 The gift of grief.

Like the dragonfly who grows her wings while crawling at the bottom of the pond, magic eventually emerged from my muck.

After months of feeling stuck in creative limbo, I had an epiphany: A joyful vision for my next book and a class that my heart is longing to create. (I’ll keep you posted as they both develop.)

I realize now what a gift that bee sting was.

I had been spending a lot of mental energy trying to be positive. Trying to be productive. And trying to navigate this new abnormal.

But that stinger stopped me from Doing and forced me To Be(e). And all those feelings that surfaced and tears that released, created the space for new clarity and creativity to emerge.

The moral of my story?

Give yourself permission To Be(e).

I hope it doesn’t take a bee sting for you to make the time to be still. To honor yourself with kindness and patience for all that you’re processing right now. (Whether it’s personal feelings or the collective grief that we sensitive beings that can’t help but feel.)

Yes, there’s a lot of muck out in the world.

But if we tend lovingly to our inner world, I believe there’s a multitude of magic waiting to be discovered.

With wings of love,
Wendi

P.S. If you’d like some help finding the magic in your magic, let’s talk. I’m happily offering my 50-minute Intuitive Phone Sessions at a sliding scale rate for these challenging times. Just contact me and I’ll set up a time for you asap.