Permission to STFU This Eclipse Season

The first arrived on August 12th with the New Moon in Leo, and the second is still ahead of us. It’s been… a DOOZY.

Like clockwork, when eclipse season rolls around, I know I’ll have a handful of sessions where my clients are moving through BIG energies. Decisions, endings, beginnings, revelations, identity shifts, the sudden urge to blow everything up and rebuild it from scratch. You know, just another casual eclipse season.

I have a slightly different spiritual practice to offer for this moment between eclipses, and I’m just going to rip the Band-Aid off:

Maybe we should… shut up for a little while.

I SAY IT LOVINGLY! I really, really do. I’m not SILENCING anyone. I’m offering us a chance to ask: What would happen if I were a little more particular about who has access to what I’m moving through? Because the energy is potent. BECAUSE there is so much in flux.

I’ve been thinking a lot about privacy lately, both creative and personal, and how to balance the parts of myself I want to share online with the parts I’d rather keep a little more “mysterious.” (The exact word my friend Ashley B Jones used in a recent conversation when she lovingly called me out for wanting to be more… secretive.)

This led me to think more broadly. About how quickly we turn every one of our experiences into something to share, post, and prove. Like… truly everything.

And I don’t solely mean posting intimate details of our lives online. I’m also noticing the subtler habit of experiencing our lives while simultaneously considering how we’re going to explain the experience, and our choice to have it, to someone else.

Something, anything, happens in our lives and we start scripting the reveal of said experience before it’s even over. We make a decision and start preparing the how to defend it. We have a realization and immediately start imagining how we’ll relay it to the group chat.

I am particularly guilty of that last one. Sometimes I’ll have a wonderfully synchronistic moment, or an intuitive realization about something I’ve been circling and stressing over feels validated. Then, approximately seven seconds later, I’m reaching for my phone to voice-note a bestie and tell her about it. Shout-out to my fellow verbal processors. I love it sometimes, but my God, do we love to PROCESS.

And often it helps! But I’ve also started noticing the times when I share something too quickly and walk away from the conversation feeling a little too exposed. Not vulnerable in the beautiful “yay, intimacy!” sense. More like I’ve left the energetic front door wide open before I was sure if I wanted company.

Suddenly I’m wondering whether I’ll:

a) actually follow through on what I just revealed

b) fuck the whole thing up, and disappoint not just myself but others

or c) somehow interfere with my dream becoming a reality because I didn’t even give myself the chance to live inside the possibility of it solo.

It’s as if we start changing and almost simultaneously, begin constructing the story of how we’ll explain the change.

Energies are moving. Perspectives are shifting. Identities are falling away. 99.9 percent of my client sessions reflect these themes right now.

And energetically, I believe some things become clearer, stronger, and more ours when we give them a little time to exist in privacy first.

I recently read Hazel Miyano’s Substack piece about the ancient superstition of the evil eye and the psychology of announcing our plans too early, and it sent me into a totally validating spiral.

Across cultures, we’ve created rituals, charms, and entire spiritual practices around protecting what is precious from too many eyes. Which got me thinking about the modern witchcraft equivalent of warding off the evil eye which is…

IDK letting your Instagram Stories go silent for a week?

Or, perhaps: shutting TF up during this eclipse season.

Because whether or not you believe someone else’s envy can energetically interfere with what you’re creating (I do…), being witnessed changes our relationship to something.

The minute we announce the plan, it becomes public. Now there are questions, expectations, opinions, and the occasional innocent “Wait, how’s that thing going?” inquiries.

Privacy gives us room to find out what our relationship to it is, and how/if it aligns.

I guess that’s the modern protection spell: fewer eyes » leads to less explaining » which leaves more privacy and space to integrate the healing.

A few years ago, after spending years sharing my life online, I realized my highly sensitive ass wanted to move in silence a little more. Since then, I’ve become FAR more protective of what I post, what I share, and even what I reveal about myself to a coaching client.

When we move in silence, we give what we’re calling in, building, or channeling a chance to gather some energetic weight.

I’ve always thought of this as a form of energetic containment and protection. When something is still tender or unclear, talking about it too soon can disperse the energy gathering around it. It can leave something exposed before it’s ready to be witnessed.

Suddenly, the desire that existed between you and Spirit is being passed around for critique or validation. You’re explaining it, answering questions about it, absorbing other people’s projections onto it. Energy that could have gone toward actually living it starts going toward managing the conversation and everyone else’s expectations.

And to be clear, I don’t think telling someone your plans is going to cosmically cancel your order. I’m more interested in what silence can do for us.

Moving quietly has often helped me stay close to my own desire long enough to understand whether I actually want it. It lets me build trust with an idea before asking anyone else to believe in it. It gives my intuition enough space to become louder than all the opinions I could collect about it.

…when I started my Flow State Summer experiment, my original idea was to document the whole thing. And I mean the whole thing. I wanted to share the nitty gritty of what I was trying, what was working, what wasn’t, the practices, yada yada. It felt generous and interesting to bring everyone into the process with me.

I even told KP Pilley (a fellow creative who supports me with content strategy!) that it was genius. A CONTENT SERIES! Everyone loves a series! A string of potentially viral B-roll clips documenting the whole thing in real time, basically screaming: “Hey, look what I’m learning as I go!”

Until I realized I had accidentally created a second job out of a process that I wanted to be FUN.

I thought, wait a minute. THIS SUCKS. I don’t want to document every second of this. I actually want to be more secretive about what’s happening and give myself the space to learn from it privately.

Which led to the ironically obvious realization: oh my God, I’m burning myself out documenting the experiment I started because I was already burned out. Oops.

And that is part of what’s wrong with the content-creation loop and the culture of oversharing so many of us find ourselves caught in online, but I digress.

When everything has the potential to become something “valuable”, we can forget how to let an experience belong to us first.

As I’ve been studying Flow State and the way creative energy moves within and through us, I keep coming back to this: some things gain power through expression, and others gain power through containment.

Ideas need us to take a sacred pause sometimes. So do relationship developments, decisions, desires, creative projects, spiritual experiences, and new versions of ourselves.

Which is part of why eclipse season feels like such an interesting time to resist the impulse to immediately know, explain, and share.

An eclipse is, quite literally, an obscuring. Something moves between us and what is normally visible. And whether you identify as a bona fide astrology girlie or someone only vaguely interested in it, I find that symbolism powerful.

This eclipse is making it clear that we’re not supposed to see EVERYTHING yet.

There is self-intimacy in having parts of yourself that are not constantly being witnessed. There is creative freedom in knowing that an experience does not have to justify itself by becoming useful.

Maybe intentional privacy is one of the ways we make our lives sacred again in a time of extreme surveillance and access to everyone. And I think that would be pretty wonderful.

It gives us a little room between our precious energy and the world. It gives us the grace to change our minds without issuing a statement.

So there you go. I grant you permission to SHHHH.

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