When Our Space Shifts, So Do We

The Lions Gate portal rolled in like a thunderstorm this year. If you don’t know what that means, it’s an annual alignment where the Sun in Leo meets Sirius, the brightest star in the sky. People say it’s a time of clarity, expansion, renewal.

I don’t know all the cosmic details, but I do trust my guides. Every month, I receive a card reading from my beautiful Ellie. This month she pulled The Mask, and her first question to me was: “Where are you holding yourself back?” 

That one stopped me.

Because I know myself: when the weight comes in, especially leading up to my dad’s birthday, I retreat. I go inward. I hide - I GO SMALL.

But this time the message I received was clear—don’t shrink. Don’t tuck yourself away. MOVE.

Move your body.

Move your mind.

Move your furniture.

Move your Space

So I'm doing just that.

I started in my office, because this is where I live the most—where I practice, where I create, where I hold, where I show up for Blissful Being.  So my desk was first.

And once that desk shifted, I couldn’t stop.

The living room, the dining room, back to the office.

By the end of August, the whole house had been touched.

There was sweat. There were sighs. There were muttered phews and quiet a lot of F*@K's. But underneath all of it, there was release. Like an exhale I’d been waiting too long to take.

Because the truth is, sometimes it feels like the walls are pressing in on me. The air gets heavy, grief sneaks closer, and I can’t always carry it inside my body. 

I can’t move the date on the calendar. 

I can’t erase the ache of my dad’s birthday approaching.

But I can move the space around me. And that helps me breathe again.

The first thing I always do is cleanse. Palo santo and feather in hand, I walked through the house, one room at a time. Smoke curling into corners, drifting across thresholds, weaving around every piece I had moved.

I whispered thank-yous as I went.

Thank you for holding me. 

Thank you for witnessing my joy, my grief, my becoming. 

Now let’s breathe differently together. 

It wasn’t about ritual being done right. It was about reverence. About reconnecting with my home the way I reconnect with my breath.

And when I circled back to where I began, the air felt lighter. The walls that had been closing in now seemed to lean back, giving me space to exhale.

I’ve always believed our spaces mirror what we carry inside. When the room is cluttered, so am I. When the energy is stuck, my heart is too.

Rearranging isn’t about redecorating. For me, it’s about survival. About healing.

About giving myself permission to move with life, instead of staying stuck in the heaviness.

When I finally sat at my desk, now facing my altar. I felt it. My shoulders dropped. My breath steadied. I felt supported by my space again. (Shes still a work in progress, just like me)

And that’s why I’m sharing this with you.

Because if you’ve been carrying weight, if the walls feel close, if grief or life has you tight in the chest—maybe you don’t need to solve it all today. Maybe you just need to touch your space. Slide a chair. Light some smoke. Open a window.

Small shifts matter. They ripple. They hold us when nothing else can.

Two years ago I would have hidden in the heaviness. This year, I am choosing to move with it. That’s what healing looks like for me today.

And if you’re in your own season of walls pressing in—please know you’re not alone.

Keep listening.

Keep moving.

Keep softening.

Your space, your body, your heart will catch up with you.

I’ve left a light on for you.

Shannan