Magic and Madness
Part one of a newsletter for the Year of March
We kicked off March by coming off of a spontaneous trip to the Texas hill country —sitting in fields, communing with cows, and falling asleep at 7:30 pm each night. Something from that experience sparked something in me I had been searching for, kind of like the missing puzzle piece to the madness that was unfolding.
And truthfully, those revelations came from
a not-so-aligned virtual run-in with an ex-lover (fully orchestrated by yours truly),
a tussle with my bank account,
and a wondering of what could possibly be next.
— And from all that, the month that stretched decades began.
The year of March.
So let’s begin…
As we entered into March, the chatter of esoteric girlies and the spiritual communities I’ve found myself frequenting lately all began to murmur with anticipation and reverence for the month of March in the year 2025.
Why?
Oh, because eclipses, retrogrades, Neptune moving into a sign it hasn’t been in over 165 years, and Aries Pisces and Virgo all making themselves known and scheming in our favor in unusual ways.
And you might ask, — “Has Ady fallen down the hole of new age conspiracy or fallen up the hole into living in space rather than on Earth?”
I asked myself the same as I began to resonate deeply with the murmurs and find intrigue and guidance from the mysticism of it all.
I started to feel myself being pulled in half by what I needed to believe to be “accepted” and by the new teacher who had begun calling out to me.
So, I did the most logical thing a person could do when deciding the fate of their new internal belief systems, and I went to a yoga retreat in Taos, New Mexico.
There is no better place to face your weird, your worries, or your doubts, than Taos.
Taos has an ancient wisdom to it.
It’s grungey and behind on the times, and you will probably see someone naked roaming around if you trek too deeply into the forest or search for natural hot springs - or attend a yoga retreat, for that matter.
It’s the perfect place to test your weird, to explore your strange, to connect to your spirit.
I love it there.
And while I had hoped that being surrounded by others on a similar journey — although in many different fonts — I would stop feeling so split in half,
the tear, the crack, the pull was ever-present.
I could feel my judgment gnawing on other people’s stories like a rawhide bone.
There was no way this could be who I would become should I stay on the path.
But what was I afraid of?
Their kindness, their radiant love, their trust in something massive and natural and pure?
I would find myself leaning in, elbows on the table, hands under my chin in awe of their strength, their stories, their vibrancy, and then, in a flash, I could see the small self within me hiding in the back of the dark closet begging me to be safe, to stop wondering, to come back where we could control.
Come back to second-guessing, ridged structures, and black-and-white reasoning.
And then we would dance, or chant, or strike a new conversation, and I’d come back to enchantment.
It was a beautiful day with beautiful people in a beautiful place filled with magic.
I returned home wondering what would become of my turmoil between the spark of magic burning within me and the eyes of judgment waiting and watching for me to come running back home like the prodigal son.
So I spent the week halved like a divorce between the house of my spirit and the house of my own expectations.
One feeding me ritual and inspiration and lessons - the other feeding me shame, what ifs, and worry.
And then, like a curtain rising from the stage, the full moon in Virgo, along with the lunar eclipse, revealed a bridge for me.
It was in meditation, movement, and contemplation that I began to accept this new path. A path filled with curiosity, mentorship, community, and kindness.
A bridge keeping me grounded in my body, in the simple things, in my present moment - feeling my feet beneath me - and on the other side helping me access a thread connecting me to higher knowing, to guidance, to intuition, to a sense of purpose — to magic.
It felt familiar, like when I used to stop mid-worship at church to journal rather than perform - I’d lay down my guard and let fall out me what needed to be said as God spoke to me.
At that moment, I began to feel the separation recede, the parts becoming whole again, and the answer becoming clearer.
now I talk about the planets and the stars,
now I give offerings to the trees,
now I sing to my morning cup of cacao,
now I dream of week-long trips deep in the Costa Rican forest with shamans and guides.
I find myself convening with Jesus, and a medicine man, and a child with wild pigtails, and a stoic ballerina, and the wisdom of the river.
I am becoming. I am the magic and the madness.
So one could say March was a great teacher, a true torture, a massive blessing, and a wrecking ball all in one. And get this - this is just one piece of the puzzle. Later this week, stay tuned for the tales of PCOS and how, in one year, I went from SEVERE adrenal fatigue to clean labs and feeling better than I have in years.
Until then, my love,
Ady
P.s. I am working on a new resource called 5 Days of 3 Minutes: The Beginner’s Guide to Letting Silence Speak, and I have opened up a waitlist for those who are intrigued. Join the list for the first updates and a special surprise when the tool goes live.
