This So-Called Feral Life

Why I canceled The Feral Experience last week.

It was supposed to be the first night in the new space.
A clean shift. A moment that marked something moving forward.

I had known it was coming for months. So much so that I secured Thursdays at 6:30pm for the months of April and May way back in January, before the announcement, before the transition, before anything was official. Everything was in place long before it needed to be.

And I prepared the way I always do. The scripts were written out in that very specific way where I can feel the pacing of them in my body. The journals were printed and stacked. I moved through the sequences enough times that they stopped feeling like choreography. And the playlist… the playlist was dialed my friends.

From the outside, there was no reason not to go.

But that morning, I woke up and felt it immediately.

A very clear, grounded no.

Not no forever. Just… not yet.

There is a space that exists between what was and what is about to begin. It doesn’t get talked about much because it’s not productive. There’s nothing to show for it. No clean language for it. But it’s real. And I wanted to stay there for a moment longer. To let things settle. To let the shift actually land in my body instead of rushing to mark it as complete.

So I canceled.

And I let myself sit in that in-between.

I don’t know that I feel entirely “ready” now either, but that doesn’t seem to be the point. This work has never come from waiting until everything clicks into place. It comes from recognizing when something has already moved, already decided, already landed… and choosing to meet it.

So here we are.

Even in the pause, there was never really a question of if this would continue. Only when I was willing to step into it.

Other Things on the Radar: Sleep

Are you actually getting that good good rest?

I’ve been more interested in what happens underneath that answer. The part you notice in the first few seconds of waking up, before you reach for your phone, before you decide how the day is going to go.

Some mornings it feels like you went somewhere. Like something in you actually restored. There’s a fullness to it. A quiet that lingers, even if the day ahead is full.

And other mornings… you wake up already mid-thought.

Like you never fully left.

Your eyes were closed, yes. Your body was still enough to pass as rest. But somewhere in the background, things were still running. Conversations looping. Plans organizing themselves. Small, invisible negotiations happening all night long.

It’s a strange place to be. Technically asleep, but not fully gone.

There is a difference between being in bed and being restored. It’s subtle, but once you notice it, it’s hard to ignore.

And lately, I haven’t wanted to ignore it.

Let me explain. After March’s Goodnight Reiki session, a lovely individual reached out to me the next day to express how much they loved the experience. How they fell asleep almost instantly and slept solidly through the night (a rarity, I was informed.) And they shared their Oura ring data to prove it!

So this got me thinking, not in a “let’s optimize this” way, but in a way that asks… what’s actually going on here?

What changes when the body is supported differently?

What shifts when you’re not trying to force rest, but allowing it?

SO! If you’re someone who already tracks your sleep with an Oura Ring or Apple Watch or some other device I am blissfully unaware of (hehe), I’d love to invite you to April’s Goodnight Reiki session on Sunday, April 19th at 9p PST.

And, if you’re open to it, I’d be curious to see your data from the night before… and the night of. I’m not going to analyze it to death, I just want to notice, to see if I can spot any trends.

As a thank you, your next Goodnight Reiki session will be on me. I’ll see ya a code when you share your data.

Beyond the data, I’d love to hear how you felt. If you noticed any changes in your sleep beyond what your watch or ring told you.

Your watch might give you numbers.

Your ring might give you a score.

But your body will always tell you the truth.

And that’s the part I care about.

Finding My Nose in a Book

And then, in what feels like a perfectly timed thread running alongside all of this, I found myself back in a book club.

The Women In Wellnesspick this month is How to Die a Rich Old Lady. The kind of title that makes you pause for a second before you decide if you’re in or out.

I was in. Obviously.

Now, I’m only a couple of sections in, but I am feeling fairly confident I could be an old rich lady. However, I could have been one sooner if this book had existed when I was in high school.

This book is filled with reflections, homework and so much more. My favorite being that one of the first things it asks you to do is visualize your rich old lady and she wants you to get specific. What is she wearing, what is she doing, where does she live, how does she live. It was a great way to start the journey of this book, because now as I go through each section, each chapter I can embody her.

In case you were wondering, she is a beast.

There is something about her that makes you aware of her the second she enters a room. You might instinctively move out of her way. Or you might find yourself pulled toward her without fully understanding why.

She moves slowly, but nothing about her feels delayed. Every step lands. Every decision is clean. She is not rushed because she is not disconnected from herself.

She doesn’t need to prove anything because she has already built a life that feels like hers. Fully. Tangibly. In her body.

There is no gap between who she is and how she lives.

And the most confronting part is this: she didn’t get there by doing more. She got there by listening. By noticing. By choosing not to override the small, consistent signals that most people ignore.

She stayed with herself long enough for something real to take shape.

Which, when I look at everything right now… the class, the pause, the way I canceled, the way I’m returning … it all threads back to the same place.

There is already something decided.

The question is whether you’re willing to slow down enough to feel it… and then trust it when you do.

We start there.