A Way of Being — New Moon in Virgo
Every rhythm starts the same way for me. Not with a plan, not with a calendar, but with one small daily return. A bite of ice cream after lunch. A few minutes at the beach looking for something tiny. The practice is never the big moment. It's always the return to it, day after day, small enough to actually keep.
I'm sitting at our coffee table with Kayla, early, before everyone else arrives for our New Moon gathering, and something settles into place that I hadn't quite named before. A way of tending my three-year-old self, small and steady, right here in the quiet before the room fills.
This is Virgo season, and if you know the sign, you know its gift and its edge live in the same place: the instinct to look closely, to sort, to find what's out of place and set it right. Left unchecked, that instinct turns on us, and looking closely becomes criticizing harshly. Held with care, it becomes something else entirely, the willingness to look at the hard parts we'd usually rather not.
I'm remembering something I wrote about recently, a memory that surfaces for me on a beach, lining up shells with Nicole (Tiny Shells), and how that small, repetitive motion opens a door to something much older in me.
I don't walk through that door all at once. I go slowly, without grasping for the whole of it in one sitting.
For a moment, I'm just there with it. Not fixing it, not explaining it to myself, just present to something that's been waiting a long time to be seen.
Then I come back, the way you always come back, into a small, concrete choice. Line up one more shell.
Take one more breath. Let the beach be the beach again, now carrying a little more truth than it did a minute ago.
That's the rhythm underneath all of this. Not a single breakthrough. A practice of turning toward what's true, in whatever dose I can actually hold that day, and then tending it again tomorrow.
And if something in you is circling a hard part right now, unsure how to begin looking at it, that's exactly the kind of work I sit with people in. Not to fix it for you. Just to be there while you find your own way back to it, a little at a time.
Book a session, and let's begin wherever you are.
— Ryan
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