I’m often amazed at the way personal experiences and transformations mirror much larger shifts in consciousness. “As above, so below” isn’t just an old saying; sometimes it’s astonishingly literal. Right now, both personally and globally, old familiar roles and patterns are falling away – sometimes at breakneck speed.

During the recent Shoud, when Adamus talked about our performances – the acts of consciousness we’ve lived in for so long that they’ve become our identities – it wasn’t hard to see my own. One of the biggest roles I’ve taken on – whether in my biological family or my Shaumbra family – has been “mama,” the one who remembers what everyone needs, where everything is, can somehow produce just the right thing at just the right time, and keeps everything running. It’s not that others need or even want a mama; it’s that I’ve gotten very good at playing that role. A big part of it is being a Keeper – a keeper of potentials, possibilities, information, and memories. If you can’t find what you’re looking for, just ask mom. She always knows! 

The role has served me well, both in running a family and as a content manager. But then Adamus keeps repeating “Drop the performance and just enjoy life!” It sounds easy, but no matter how much gets done, there’s always something more that postpones the life I keep meaning to live. Relax and enjoy life? That’s for everybody else; I’ll rest when I die. (Erm… looking at you, boss. 🤓 ) It’s easy to justify extreme busyness when it feels like the whole world needs what you’re working on! But, ever so slowly, I’ve been releasing some of that “momager” (mom/manager) stuff and leaning into the joy of simply relishing life and a job I enjoy. 

Funny enough, the more I’ve learned to rest and relax on a regular basis, the more balanced my life has become and the more efficient my work seems to be. How is that possible? How do you accomplish more by doing less? Hmm, maybe the performance of being overwhelmingly busy takes more energy than simply doing what’s needed. But then, things got a little weird.

A couple of days after the Shoud, I noticed a feeling of extreme agitation coming up. Work was mostly done for the day, but instead of relaxing, I literally felt like crawling out of my skin. But why? Was there some important task I’d forgotten? Some impending shift rushing in to blindside me? Was it the storm outside? Maybe the upcoming wedding? (My sweet daughter got married here a few days ago.) Having a hard time with just “allowing the feeling” without understanding it, I went to the little pack of cards I keep for the moments when it’s hard to hear myself clearly. 

Self, what the heck is going on? I asked, shuffling the simple images. Then I pulled one – Snake. Hmm, was I telling myself to slither around for a while? Was my kundalini rising? Was some big transformation looming – yet again? Then it hit me: snakes periodically shed their skin. I’m molting! The physical discomfort and energetic itchiness weren’t a problem to solve. Something old simply wasn’t fitting anymore. That one little realization changed everything, and yes, the squirmy feeling of “Eww, get it off me!” made perfect sense. 

I sat there for a moment, wondering what molting might actually look like in real life, when I found myself staring at a small door. My office has an odd storage space tucked into a wall under the roof, and a lot of random stuff has been crammed in there over the years. The knowing was instant – that is where it starts! So, I pulled everything out of the space, sorting through things that had been hidden for more than 17 years – old Crimson Circle workshop CDs, books, shipping stuff, even random supplies from when the CC office was at Lake Tahoe. Geez, self… hold energy much? 

It was like undoing the first button of a very tight old suit. Energy started moving and nothing was going to stop it. I spent the rest of the evening – and every available evening since then – emptying cupboards, closets, drawers, and boxes. Out went bins of fabric scraps from decades ago. Never-worn clothes that might fit… someday. Duplicate household gadgets because who knows when I’ll need a spare. Knickknacks and mementos from chapters of life long gone. Even crates of other people’s stuff I’ve been storing to help them out. Boxes of music CDs had to go, the soundtrack of my life, each embedded with precious memories. But who even has a CD player these days, let alone the time to play through them all? 

Clearly, the time had come for a massive letting go. But honestly, it felt more like releasing a helium balloon than setting down an armload of heavy bricks. All this stuff – my energy stuck in solid form – it wants to be free! I can hardly keep up with the impulses to purge, the garage is clogged with old belongings, and yes, a yard sale is happening this very weekend. 

I must be clear, though: this is not about rejecting the past but rather loving it and setting it free. Part of that love turned up in the box of CDs. When I was pregnant with my daughter 24 years ago, a particular song became my lifeline, and I played it on repeat for months before and after her birth. Now it was time to share the wonder. The next time she came over to discuss wedding logistics and do laundry, I told her the story of the song and played it for her. She felt the connection, even though she didn’t really remember the music. And somewhere inside I felt a passing of the torch, the completion of an agreement, and another very deep release.

A few days later, I witnessed her splendor as a beautiful independent woman celebrating life with a partner 52 years her senior – and somehow, a perfect match. Yes, an important part of the molting process is letting go of the future you’ve imagined for other people, especially the ones you love. 

With family gathered for the celebration and Adamus’ admonition about performance fresh in my mind, I was acutely aware of finally releasing the old “momager” role – mom managing everything for everyone. It was a gentle curtain call of a lifetimes-long performance in which I’d played the same role so thoroughly that nothing else even felt possible. But as I release the role – the planning, the holding, the keeping things for someday, just in case – wondrous new potentials suddenly feel more possible!

Well, the molting has continued, and the other night I discovered just how thorough it is.