cedarandsoul cedarandsoul

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Megan Febuary  Embody Coach | Writer | Artist | Healing Healer | You will know the truth โ€ข The truth will set you free


CODEPENDENCY// Much of my art is creating something out of subconscious and then sitting back to let it teach me. Lately my work has been teaching me about codependency. An addiction to being swallowed up by another, absorbing another's feeling to escape my own emotion; the discarding of self for the sake of other. Do you know this pattern? They say the first step in any addiction is naming it. Let's start there. I'm megan and I'm a codependent. I want to be free and autonomous and self reliant. I want to trust and not be taken advantage of. I want to heal and take my power back. Are you with me? Start with the hardest step: name what's true. โœŒ๐Ÿผโœจ

Today is the last day of our birthday weekend. Spending lots of time cuddling with boo on the patio and thinking about things I try hard to avoid. Truth is persistent like that, it will keep showing its face until you choose to acknowledge, listen, and let it change you. While this weekend was beautiful, it also offered me a lot of wake up calls to my own healing journey. I am aware that I still have lots of work to do, which is humbling. I'm thankful though to share this process with you, hopefully it wakes you to some truth as well. Remember, to be kind, love hard, and forgive often in whatever you're facing today. Bless you. โœจ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿผ

BIRTHDAY // My birthday was never a dark day until 8 years ago when I was assaulted on it. Then, that date, seemed to hang heavy over me like a cloud. Today, I'm 33 and feel more myself than ever. I am healing always, but I am at home in my skin and creating out of the chaos. Cheers to another year of living into the light! โœจโœจโœจ

I SAW GOD LAST NIGHT in the sunset. The blue. The gold. The way colors stretched tight like a canvas and smear. I heard God in the ocean. The roar. The shhhh. The slow tide that breathed in and out like a respirator. I felt God in the sand. The grit. The powder. The footprint of humanity walking among us. ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿผ๐ŸŒŠโœจThe kingdom is here. Among us. Within us. Holding us. Healing us.

Amen. Yes! Go deep. Ask the hard questions. Speak your truth. โœจ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿผโœจ

I was chatting last night with my husband Landon around my growing attachment to social media over the past three years. How it has become this popularity meter by which I measure myself, every post a sales pitch for who I am and what I do (aka: please like me), and at the end of the day, an addiction. It sets up an exhausting standard for BE-ing, and at some point I signed a socially constructed contract that I felt was crucial for life. Three years ago I didn't even have Instagram. Four years ago I used Facebook only casually and without obligation. What was life like then? I saw people more. I had less social anxiety. I enjoyed nature. I had less photos, but more memories. I didn't have an existential crisis every other week. I didn't compare as much. I wrote letters. I made food. I called my mom. What is this habit, this impulse so strong that I'm writing to it about it right now? Ok, rant, but really I'm tired. So if I do some ghost fading and post less, don't be surprised. Be excited for me- it means I'm making things that I've avoided. ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿผโœจ Would love to hear your thoughts on this and how you've found balance. โœŒ๐Ÿผ

TAKE OFF YOUR MASK. YOU CAN'T HIDE WHO YOU ARE. I've been working on a book of illustrations for over two years all about feelings. Some of them end up being people in masks and alter animal egos. The point is we have so many different sides to us, so many layers that are difficult to show. When we can stop hiding the shadow parts, the wild animal we try hard to cage, we can begin to live freer into our whole self without shame. You are wild. You are good. You are dark. You are also full of light. โœจโœŒ๐Ÿผ

You can learn a lot from trees: How they live, how they die, how they resiliently rise up from impossible situations. There is a papaya tree in my neighbor's yard that has rotted out completely from the inside. Yet even with all that death, it keeps sprouting new beautiful green leaves from the same rotted out base. ๐ŸŒฟThat tree keeps speaking to me about my own foundation. Some parts feel dead in me, some dreams rotted, some plans pointless, but still there is the call to rise anyway. โœจโœŒ๐ŸผTo be reborn. To hope in the impossible. There is a beautiful passage in the scriptures that speak to this: 'May the God of green hope fill you up with joy, fill you up with peace.. so that you will be filled with life giving energy of the Spirit.' -Romans 15:13. ๐Ÿ™๐ŸผWhat 'green hope' do you need today? What life in death? What hope in the impossible?

I only have four more yoga classes I'm offering before I break for my teaching sabbatical, so come see me! Monday/ 4pm/ @higherpowernola โœจ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿผ Tuesday/ 9:30am/ @higherpowernola โœจ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿผ

BE KIND. IT SHAKES THE WORLD. - @cleowade โœจ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿผ Feeling heavy from the dark shit happening in our country today. Racism is alive and well, we know this, but this weekend we've seen many hate groups rally together to make their voices known. Let's make our voice for love and justice even louder.

How many times have I thought I can't release this pain - I can't forgive this abuse - I can't step into joy OR all this will be invalidated, excused, and forgotten. This commitment to victimhood has kept me in a diminished place. Everyday I am choosing to say I forgive you - I release you - I am safe and well. This is not forgetting, rather naming, and stepping forward rather than in circles. โœจ๐Ÿ™๐ŸผYou have all the power within you to let go. It won't nullify your story, but it will liberate you! โœŒ๐Ÿผ namaste and bless you.

Most of you that are well acquainted with my art know that I can't create fluffy things. Everything is deeply emotive, backed by story, and typically channeled by a younger version of myself. Each illustration I create is giving that little girl a voice and paintbrush, saying 'this is your time to shine.' Today was filled with storytelling. One piece after another piece after another, and with each one I felt a little more understood. There are some things we don't have language for, only art. There are some things can't yet visualize, so we write. There are some things we can't yet feel, so we move our bodies. The point is there are a million ways back to embodiment, to wholeness, to healing. โœจWhat's your way?

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