My daughter has this sweet little saying that she reaches for whenever she hears that something has gone wrong, somebody has made a mistake, or life has simply failed to behave itself.

You might say, “I forgot my lines,” and she will look at you with the gentle reassurance of an eleven-year-old angel who has already decided that you are entirely forgivable, and quietly say:

“…and that’s okay.”

She has a way of letting you know that you may have messed up, but you have not become a terrible person who must now leave the village in shame.

Well, call me eleven and plaster my walls in unicorns, but sometimes it really is okay.

Let’s step far enough back from the intensity of this moment to see the current energy in all its wild, swirling, zoomed-out glory, because there is something moving through us that can feel like a storm when we are standing inside it.

This energy is intense. It is pressing on the places where we have swallowed our truth, abandoned our self-honouring and remained politely silent so that nobody else would feel uncomfortable or accuse us of causing a scene.

Something within us is being asked to come undone, and although that can sound frightening, it is simply the next movement of the spiritual journey, the one called:

“I can only stand true to me.”

This is the part where you may find yourself raging in places where you once smiled, nodded and quietly folded yourself small to keep the peace.

You do not need to cause a scene to be powerful, although, as you are about to discover, I occasionally like to provide a practical demonstration.

You simply need to feel the pulse of your own being moving through your veins and claim it, as though you are driving a stake into the ground and declaring to the high heavens:

“This is my land, and I will protect it.”

You are your land. You are your home.

This is the time to honour the soil beneath your feet, the roots you have planted and the sovereign self those roots are anchoring into this world, because you are worthy of occupying the space your soul came here to inhabit.

You are worthy of having your 5D roots anchored into Eden and reaching into the cosmic sky. You are worthy of standing fully within yourself without apologising for your existence, reducing your truth or shrinking to make your power more digestible.

I will stand in my space, and I will not shrink.

Now, about my rage.

I knew it was coming. When it finally erupted, I didn’t even flinch because I could feel myself watching it move through me, almost as though one part of me was roaring while another part was standing nearby with a clipboard saying, “Yes, this appears to have been building for quite some time.”

For years, my neighbour has behaved like the self-appointed ruler of the street, governing the area as though it were her private kingdom and she its power-crazed queen.

Today, she called law enforcement.

Wait for it.

The wind blew water from our garden sprinkler into her garden and wet her side of the wall.

Yes. The wall got wet.

I told her I would take the wind direction up with God.

It was not my finest hour, although I maintain that it was one of my more efficient solutions.

The rage curdled, rose, swirled and came flying out of my mouth as I yelled at her for yelling at my workmen, who had committed the heinous crime of turning on the sprinkler. It had all the emotional sophistication of an episode of Jerry Springer, only without the film crew, and while nobody was injured, I am fairly certain I could have spat flames.

How does someone find the time to call law enforcement because the wind caught water from a garden sprinkler and carried it over a wall?

Oh, the madness.

Oh, the insanity.

Oh, the shit storm it unleashed in me.

And then, as though my daughter’s little voice had arrived inside me to say, “…and that’s okay,” it subsided.

Sometimes the rage must come because it is carrying all the truths we swallowed when we believed that being spiritual meant being eternally accommodating, endlessly polite and available for other people’s nonsense.

As Mr T from The A-Team would say:

“I pity the fool.”

If you were not a child of the eighties, please ignore that line and continue pretending this is a deeply sophisticated spiritual newsletter.

The point is this.

Don’t hit anyone. Also, don’t stand there offering them a clearer shot while congratulating yourself on how peaceful you are.

There is a line between being gracious, turning the other cheek and becoming a pushover, and you are that line.

Stand it well.

Because if you do not consciously choose where that line belongs, some moment in your life will arrive and demand that you find it, and that is what is being asked of us.

Become powerful enough to remain present inside yourself.

You do not need a crazy neighbour, a sprinkler or an unexpectedly damp wall to give you permission. Perhaps, like me, you have felt something rising for quite some time and have known that the version of you who remained silent to preserve the-illusion-of-peace can no longer lead.

When anger is allowed to move cleanly, it can dissipate remarkably quickly. What remains is often a more steadfast version of you, rooted more deeply in your own power and far less willing to abandon yourself for the comfort of somebody else.

Stand there. And for God’s sake, don’t be afraid of your power, because that is what is rising now, and sometimes it needs one glorious burst of anger to blast open the door you have spent years politely holding shut.

Yes, anger is spiritual. Don’t mistake yourself for becoming less when the anger rises to make you more. Let it.

Let the energy move through you, let it elevate you, and trust that every emotion belongs to the same great ocean carrying you home to love, even when the scenic route takes you directly through Shitstorm Bay, where the waves are unreasonable, the seagulls have grievances and nobody remembered to pack a life jacket.

It is still the human journey. It is still sacred. And you must not deny yourself the opportunity to step out of it loudly, powerfully and with considerably less concern about who got splashed.

From my heart to yours

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