I turn 34 in a few days. Around this time every year, I get itchy…not necessarily eager to celebrate another birthday, but ready to shed my skin. (It’s Scorpio season, after all.)
This year, I’m deep into the work of letting go—discarding old beliefs, patterns, resentments, expectations. I’ve come a long way, but the process isn't linear. Anxiety sometimes shows up to say, hold up…if you let go, your life will fall apart. you'll be helpless. and alone.
Other times, though, a different voice comes through. It says: you aren’t in control; you never have been. And what a fucking relief that is.
💮
The other week I floated in a sensory deprivation tank. I’ve never felt anything like it. You lie in a pod of salt water, fully naked, with the door sealed like a refrigerator. And in that dark cocoon, all you can do is surrender.
A friend told me that she wept when she tried one of these tanks for the first time. After a few minutes in there, I understood. I felt a wave of emotion, something like tenderness mixed with regret. When was the last time I felt so completely relaxed, so vulnerable?
I wanted more of that feeling. When I arrived in Honolulu, I saw a reiki healer—let’s call her M. She dispensed a prescription: float in the ocean, carry selenite, eat ginseng twice a month, and get lots of rest.
Most importantly, she said, release the energy that isn't yours.
Let it go is frustratingly simple advice. I've never decided to let something go and then done it through sheer willpower. But as I lay on M’s table, I tried. She put her hands above my chest and asked that I visualize hugging someone. Feel them in your arms and then let them go, she said. Watch them walk away, down their path.
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At the end of our session, M asked if I had any questions for her. I asked how I might motivate myself to keep writing—something I love, fear, and tend to avoid. She shuffled a tarot deck and pulled a card. The Fool.
I’m an amateur when it comes to tarot, but The Fool holds a special place in my heart. It comes up often in my readings, as a call for playfulness and ease. The Fool is like the jester in a Medieval court—the one person who’s free.
The card also symbolizes the unknown, terrifying and exhilarating and full of possibility. The Fool looks up into the sky while standing on a cliff. It looks like he's about to take a step over the edge, and it's unclear whether he knows it or not.
I looked at the card for a while before saying, I take everything so seriously.
That’s who you are, M said. And that’s not a bad thing. But writing isn't life or death. You have so much guilt, so much fear...ask yourself what you're so afraid of losing.
She pulled another card from the deck. Temperance. The image is an angel, wings extended, with one foot in the water and the other on land. It symbolizes balance, patience, peace.
You have guides, she said. Invite the angels in and the gifts will come.
I think that’s the best advice I've ever heard about writing—or any creative work, for that matter.
💮
I hope you have a mysterious, juicy, cathartic Scorpio season. I hope it’s full of unexpected and much-needed release. I hope you remember to ask yourself what you really want, and that you do it without thinking too much.
That's the energy I'm trying to bring with me as I turn 34. Foolishness and freedom. Frivolity. Floating in the dark, letting it all go.
There’s nothing quite like the vulnerability you feel in a float tank. Here’s to calling on all our guides in our 34th year.
Love this so much. I tried a float tank last year and felt a similar sense of release (and claustrophobia, which I had to work through!). The energy of the Fool is so beautiful: optimism, risk-taking, embracing life with an open heart.