A New Morning

Updated: Dec 20, 2021

What your highest self says, goes...


Daily reconfirmation, of yesterday's messages. I did my first hypnotherapy session yesterday. What was confirmed to me was a concentration of the messages that have been trickling through my porous unconscious/spiritual barrier the past days, weeks and months. Was the information new? Not especially. Was I really under? Who knows? Were the messages clear and easy to receive? Absolutely. Did I feel the benefits almost immediately afterwards and still at this very moment? Conclusively, yes.

What does it do to communicate with the part of you that "knows"? Don't all parts of our selves know? One part of my brain seems to know I want pizza. Another part of me seems to remember what kind of industry produces dairy and it causes emotional hurt. Does one part of us really know better, like an inner hierarchy? Are we continuous or multiple selves? Can we truly integrate and get on the same page? How do we distinguish ego fears from intuitive thoughts? The perennial questions.


And yet! There seem to be some answers when we make a concerted effort to go there - to have the dialogue between the selves, and to let them air out their arguments.


And so I find myself, experimenting with a new way to approach my mornings.


Part of me screams, afraid: 'Natalie! Your successful transitions of the past few years all seem to stem from the brilliance of the spiritual morning routine being at the heart of your life! Why would you toy around with that?!'


Another part spoke with crystal clear clarity through the hypnosis yesterday and said: "it's time to focus a little less energy inward and channel that intention/attention into writing. (Hence) start your day with writing each morning and don't fear loosening your reliance on your other daily practices."


Will I still meditate? Do morning pages? Pull cards etc? Of course.


But I have also carved out those ritualistic practices as a way of lighting lanterns to guide me to my truest, most purposeful self. And I always suspected at the end of that winding road, was writing.


Writing, waiting for me, patiently, in a rocking chair, knitting, whispering to herself "she's always happy when she visits me but then forgets to return."


Like working out, cooking a hot meal or doing something kind for someone - a lot of things mostly/always work for us. Yet we distance ourselves from that memory time and time again. Why? Because our priorities are scattered. Because our needs and wants evolve.


But if I'm honest, writing has been there since the very beginning. In childhood, I would say it was neck and neck with drawing and performing. Through photography and my continuous content production for Tour de Soul, I would say the visual and vocal component are still very much ever present.