Releasing The Grip

I want things to go a certain way.

I want people to show up the way I hope they will. I want this number of clients to sign this month. I want my body to feel safe, my mind to feel clear, and of course, I want my jeans to fit and I don't want to be bloated. All on my timeline. All on my terms.

I should know better.

And underneath all of that wanting, there's a grip, a tightness, a quiet and constant clutching: Please let it be like this. Please not like that.

I'm a somatic practitioner. I teach and work with the body. I know how to bring safety into my nervous system. I know how to track sensation, regulate, breathe, ground. I also know that releasing the grip isn't just a mental process. It isn't only somatic. Lately, I've been learning that it's also cosmic.

As we approach the new eclipse, I keep coming back to one question:

What am I holding onto that the universe is already asking me to release?

The Grip I Know Too Well

On the surface, I look "together." I have a practice. I have clients. I have language for trauma, regulation, attachment, and boundaries. I can name my patterns. I can track my activation. I can guide others through their own processes with clarity and care.

And yet, inside, there are moments when I'm just like anyone else, telling myself, "If I just do X, Y, and Z perfectly, then I'll feel safe enough to relax."

The irony is not lost on me.

I teach about releasing control. I guide people into surrender. And still, there are days when I'm white-knuckling my own life and burning my own parachute, especially around making money and being chosen.

This is the part I don't always say out loud:

• I am still working on my own blocks.
• I am still learning how to trust.
• I am still practicing what I preach.

Why "Just Allow" Doesn't Work

For a long time, I thought releasing the grip was mostly mental, reframing a thought, challenging a belief, visualizing the outcome. Affirmations have never been my cup of tea, I'll admit that.

But when my mind says I release, my stomach gets hard.

So I went deeper, into another layer, feeling where the grip lives in the body. That helped. But it wasn't enough. There were times, even when I practiced the right tool, the grip returned.

That's when I started to realize: releasing the grip isn't only mental. It isn't only somatic. It's also energetic and cosmic.

Enter the Eclipse: A Cosmic Invitation to Release

I've always been sensitive. Even before I had language for intuition, I felt things, shifts in rooms, moods in bodies, undercurrents in relationships. I could sense when something was "off" long before anyone said a word. I know now that it's the doorway, and I permit myself to call it what it is: I'm clairvoyant.

Eclipses are potent portals. They're not just astronomical events, they're energetic thresholds. Moments when the veil between what I'm holding and what wants to move through me gets thinner.

As we approach this new eclipse, I'm noticing it in my sleep, in my body's reactivity, in how fast my emotions can swing. I can see how my desire to control spikes, and then collapses.

I want you to join me in learning about these eclipses. They're not here to disrupt us, they're here to dislodge what no longer belongs.

Know this: it's the perfect time to release what we've been clutching so tightly.

I woke up this morning with the lightness of not needing certainty to feel okay. I don't know what's next, and I am still safe. My clients and my lover don't determine my okayness. I didn't need to recite the underlying story of my childhood abandonment, I simply felt that my security is found in the release.

I wish you a happy eclipse release.