a snapshot in time// los molinos

A snapshot in time

August 2018; Los Molinos, Spain

Talk about descent into darkness...

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August, 2018: My world as I knew it had just burned to the ground— eight weeks in Berlin had been explosive and I was then about a month past the most intense energetic opening and subsequent pouring out I had ever experienced... ⁠
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⎢𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕: because I really like to make things exciting, the day of this breakthrough/burndown, I manically reached out for a lifeline— the man I was dating at the time— as I had convinced myself that if I just heard "it's going to be ok Nicolette" then I could find my bearings, and instead, he broke up with me, through a voice memo from across the ocean😂... so while thats a different story, lets just say, it added a 𝒃𝒊𝒕 of gasoline to the pyre of what was being burned down— a perfect synchronicity to really make sure I left behind what needed to die off.⎥⁠

...I was wandering, sort of here, sort of not. Piecing myself back together. Oscillating between absolutely numb, to feeling everything; from no appetite, to literally shoving as much food into me as I could to fill the hurt spaces; to try to feel something and at the same time to make it stop hurting. ⁠

And in my wandering; from the ashes of my old ideas of identity, who I was and wasn't, how I felt, what I needed and wanted, I found my way to this magical little slice of the world... Los Molinos, Spain, where I spent a few days with a woman, Marina, who walked with me, taught me and held space for my ongoing unraveling. ⁠
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Outside of a few hours of sleep, we talked for almost 3 days straight; it was exhausting and beautiful. ⁠
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She taught me about Enneagram, Human Design and Astrology, we both shared stories of our lives; of heartbreak, our beliefs about love and connection— an evolving concept moment to moment. ⁠
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We held each other as we cried, we cooked meals and wandered around the mountainous desert landscape along the River Aguas where this little village was nestled. ⁠

It was one of those synchronicities- one of the many that summer— ⁠

a special human, with wisdom beyond her years; a big beautifully open and loving heart to hold my aching one; the healing balm of the receptive arms of the feminine energy- a respite I desperately needed. And it was in a magical crystal pool she shared with me, this photo was taken.

Feeling undone + untethered; heavy, exhausted and a little feral; and a wanting to embody— to become—the deep greens, clear waters and shimmering mica walls I was standing amidst.

Another layer, a visceral memory. A moment of gratitude for the winding path I have been on and continue to walk and the amazing souls I have encountered along the way.

⫷⚕︎⫸

Thanks for coming down memory lane with me.

With big love and hugs,

My Mirror My Love

This morning I stood in front of the mirror and I talked to you, I talked to me. I looked myself in the eyes and asked the questions, felt the pain and wondered out loud in desperation and frustration… How? How do I let go? Why is the suffering so pronounced and how am I perpetuating it? Why am I stuck here?

Well, It’s an easy distraction. When the uncertainty of the rest of my life starts to crumble in around me, it’s easy to go to the pain and longing as a distraction from that anxiety. Sadness and longing are feelings I have intimate relationships with; I’m comfortable there. So I use you. As a distraction from what feels scarier, more unknown, more intense and out of control.

Also, I realized this paradox that keeps me here. It’s knowing… deeply knowing that I have to let go in order to allow in.

Which seems contradictory, I have to let you go to let you in. You being love. You represent love. The deepest reflection I’ve ever been present to. You are the deepest recognition of me, of my love, that I’ve witnessed in this lifetime. 

I have to let go of a piece of me in order to let go of you. And that pisses me off. And it’s also necessary. This is a different type of death; it is the death of the story that has played out one too many times in my life… The victim story that people always leave. Nobody stays to love me, to keep me safe, to protect me. I’m too much to be loved wholly and for someone to be there unconditionally. That once they get what they need from me, once they have taken from me their fill, they are gone because they really just want something simpler or are too afraid to go to the depths and intensity that I call home. That is who I have to let go of, and I have to let go of the suffering I feel as a result of your departure in order to call bullshit on that story. In order to truly be open to love. I have to let you go to let you in. You are love. My love.

I have been so angry at you, at me… for this time. For this pain I feel. The grief, I read today, is all the love that one has left to give that has nowhere to go [or at least it’s the mind’s perception of the lack of container to pour into]. I’m not sure if I believe that, but what I know is that I have so much more love to give … so much more… and the grief is like a neon sign reminding me of that. I feel trapped in it. And my judgement— my indignation of the wrongness of this space— is perpetuating suffering.

But looking at me, looking at you this morning in the mirror I recognized: this love, this powerful potent love—I know you know what I’m talking about— it has a place to go. I just have to decide to accept that and redirect it. I have control over where it goes and I’ve been avoiding this acknowledgement and ownership. Frankly, because I want to give it to you. I want. There are things I want and I don’t like that I’m not getting what I want. And you know the type of hissy fit I can throw when not getting what I want. The judgement keeps me both stuck and safe in suffering. All I really need to do is pour into me. To stop seeking answers and logical explanations for why and accept that the only reason I’m seeking in the first place is because I’m avoiding the space that the love must go first before anything I want can become.

This space is the final frontier; it’s the deepest darkest night. It’s Me.

Right now, I’m standing on the precipice. Will I finally jump? Will I finally let go? Relinquish to the transformation that has been happening over the past 24 months? Will I allow the transformation to move through me and complete this cycle?

The incubation period has been dark. It has been uncomfortable.

And the more I grow, this small space within the womb has gotten more and more claustrophobic. I can feel that I have overstayed my welcome. What a funny pattern I have. My birth was surrounded by the same cycle. I stayed just a little longer— I needed more time. I just wasn’t ready. And even when I was ready, I wasn’t ready. Because when are we ever ready? When are we ever ready to take the treacherous journey, through the darkness, through spaces way too small for our bigness, and out into the bright new world? Where everything is unknown; where the stimulus is so intense that our little brand new eyes, so sensitive, cannot even open to it right away. We need time to acclimate…one step at a time. We’ve been through this before and it was fucking terrifying. And now, with all the days and years of experience, we know how scary and amazing and dangerous this world really can be. With the awareness of that truth, is it more or less scary to come out, leaving the safety and warmth of a place too small for us, and begin again? I don’t know the answer to that because I’ve been hanging out in the dark and constricted comfort of the underworld, the dark damp world beneath. I know it’s time for me to come out, to begin again and be out there, unprotected; it’s time for the wildflower to poke her head above ground and risk it all to grow toward the light. It is the way, it is the path.

And, it is my destiny. I was never meant to be small, to play it safe. I am wild and strong and a little reckless in the subtlest of ways. I was meant to adventure, to explore the unknown. To maintain the innocence of one who doesn’t know better and believes the best in the world around her all while pushing the boundaries of the status quo.

That girl—she isn’t naive— she is a warrior of that which is good. She knows that something like evil exists, but it is her job to continue to see and reflect the good in all there is.

To be the beacon of doing better. She has to show up, even when she wants to crumble into cynicism and defeat. Even when she wants to blame and play victim, she has to show up and remind us all, that the world is a beautiful, magical place. That nature demands imperfection and is beauty personified and she is a representation of all that exists; a reminder of the simplicity and transformative power of a knowing smile coming from a place of compassion. It isn’t easy, but it comes easy to her.

She never was too rebellious or destructive, because that just isn’t her nature. The times she was, it was because she was trying to be something she was not, on the path to finding her Truth. And through that, she fell down. She crawled around in the dark. She hurt others and was hurt. She learned what is her and what isn’t. So it’s no longer even worth thinking that the grass could be greener on the other side, because she knows it isn’t.

Her rebellion is a simple one. Relentless authenticity. Truth. Kindness and love. Unapologetically accepting and loving all. She is a bright light and not everyone can handle standing in her reflection; and not everyone is meant to.

You see, she isn’t all rainbows and butterflies and positivity. She’s real. This shit isn’t easy. Descending into the underworld and keeping one foot firmly planted above ground is a test of will and a feat of strength… of trust. She’s a testament that it’s possible to lean in and not get swept up and lost forever in the swirling shadows of the deepest, darkest sides of humanity, even as she continues to straddle the fissure between two worlds.

She is truth. She is all, as there is nothing out there that isn’t within her. She is everything. Even as she doubts this, sitting on the floor, typing these words, in her childhood bedroom, no longer a child. She knows, despite her ego trying to convince her of her failure somewhere along the way. This is no random occurrence; it’s all divinely orchestrated. Though, she sometimes rolls her eyes and wonders why in the HELL she agreed to some of this shit. It’s confusing. To feel this divine knowledge and trust of the path that is unfolding while being practical in a physical world. It is enough to drive some mad. Some days it drives her mad… it brings to mind a line from a good ol’ country song by Sturghill Simpson once shared with her…

“So forgive me if sometimes I seem a little crazy/ But goddamn, sometimes crazy is how I feel…”

Sometimes, crazy is just how I feel, as she is me. Splitting at the seams. And then, in moments of divine clarity, I recognize that the fractures are to let the light out and the love in. They are there to teach me, show me my own strength and resilience. My own ability to heal and mend, my Self and to empower others to do the same for themselves.

This world, this experience, this body, this life… it’s a trip. It’s so easy to lose sight of the beauty within the mess when in it. But take a step back. Think about all the experiences that led to where you are in this exact moment, and ask yourself… could this all really be random? Could it be anything other than orchestrated by some power greater than you? Think about the greatest challenge you’ve endured and how that experience shaped you— the strength you gained—if nothing else from the recognition of the depth of horrors you can survive. How it prepared you for the next one, and the one after that. That’s resilience.

And stop for a second, right here, right now; in this exact moment, reflect on how strong, how capable and how blessed you are to be breathing and experiencing everything.

That’s presence.

Now, for a moment, look back and think about who you have been. This may be more challenging to sit with, but I invite you to smile at the shame, breathe deeply into the moments you immediately go to that make you cringe; to embrace the little you who you have continually judged as weak, that you have desperately tried to escape and say “thank you” to that survivor. Who you have been [despite your judgement] has led you to this version of you. This you, that is paving the way in this moment for where you are headed next.

That’s grace.

And you may not be able to see a clear picture of what is to come next, but will you allow yourself to feel it? Not being able to see what is next is not on accident. It’s a blessing and a million little lessons. It’s tempting you to trust. Daring you to let go of the desire to control and instead, to allow. It’s offering you the opportunity to listen and take action from a deeper knowing than your fear could ever let you see.

It’s overwhelming really to imagine my self in this body, in this life and my place in the order of the chaos that is this experience. I laugh to myself when I really think about it. The fact that I am, that you are, exactly on time; that we are all connected and a part of this collective, and there is nothing that we have to learn outside of us. There is only that which we need to uncover within. The outside world is just a reflection meant to help us remember what we already deeply know. The truth, which is, that we are all on purpose. We are all meant to be. We all are. It’s our choice how we show up and react to that.

So take a look in the mirror. Ask the questions burning in your heart. Listen for the answers— just listen—they are there for you. All you need to do is be still, to allow, to feel, and then… let go.

Let go and allow love in. ♥︎

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Thank you for reading and being a part of this journey with me. I would love to hear what came up in you as you read this, and if you have any questions for me, please do not hesitate to comment below or email info@nicolettebernardes.com.

With gratitude and always LOVE,