Still Becoming: Honour the Sacred Pause, the Power in Not Knowing

There’s a moment in every cycle when the work is done, the seeds are sown, the tide is turning… but nothing has sprouted yet.

It’s an awkward, beautiful place.

Half-formed. Half-sure.

You’ve done what you can. Now it’s not your move.

In that space, we are asked to trust.

Not in a forced way, no teeth-clenched affirmations, but in the way you trust the moon will rise whether you check the sky or not.

The Sacred Pause

This is the universe’s way of putting a gentle hand on your shoulder and saying, “Stay here a moment.” It isn’t punishment. It’s grace.

We live in a world that pushes for constant answers, quick resolutions, and neatly tied bows. But magic doesn’t work to that clock. Transformation has its own timetable.

Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is… nothing.Not the restless, anxious kind of nothing, but the still kind. The listening kind.

Because in the pause, the threads of your next chapter are being woven where you can’t see them yet.

Journaling Reflections for the In-Between

Take these prompts somewhere quiet, a garden, your favourite chair, a bus seat with the rain against the window. Let them unfold slowly.

1. Where in my life am I “still becoming”?

2. What does my body feel like when I stop trying to hurry the answer?

3. Who or what has taught me to trust the unseen?

4. If I knew the outcome would be beautiful, how would I rest differently today?

5. What might the pause be protecting me from rushing into?

These aren’t questions to race through. Let them sit. Come back to them in a week and see what’s shifted.

"Journaling is like whispering to one's self and listening at the same time." - Mina Murry

The Invitation Beneath the Waiting

There’s a reason the ancients told their stories in circles, not straight lines. We return to the same places again and again, each time changed.

If you’re feeling the call to walk those circles with intention, to step into the turning of the seasons and learn how to live by the rhythm of the land, there are paths opening soon.

One is Moonlodge, my 13-moon ancestor-led circle, opening again under September’s full moon.

Another is Goddesses of These Lands, a year-long priestess spiral beginning on Samhain.

Both are journeys of becoming, held in the slow magic of cycles, where the pause is just as sacred as the leap.

For now, though, stay here. Let the pause teach you. The next step will find you.