Hello again, dear ones. Welcome back (or for the first time, for those who have recently joined) to the monthly Resourcing the Revolution newsletter. It’s been a bit since the last full edition back in May, and somehow it feels simultaneously like no time has passed and a century has slid by without me noticing.
It’s late August in the mountains, and even though summer is well and truly in full swing, I can already sense the autumn beginning to tease its entrance.
The garden screams summer, with its seemingly ceaseless bounty of cucumbers, beans, tomatoes, tomatillos, beets, cauliflower, blackberries, kale, and chard, while the other plants aren’t far behind. (Sometimes I fear, just a little, that the cucumbers will come for us in the night.)
But the light has started to shift from its high point in June, giving us darker skies by bedtime. We’re back into open-window weather (a huge relief from the unusually hot and humid summer so far) and the late-summer cicadas and katydids sing their operatic serenade through the night. And if you look closely, you can start to see some of the trees starting to tinge away from their high summer green — a peek of orange, or yellow, or red flashing in the breeze.
As we close this current eclipse season (having passed the new moon Solar eclipse in Leo on the 12th) with tomorrow’s full moon Lunar eclipse in Pisces, I’m reminded of the cyclical nature of the universe. Be it the ebb and flow of the seasonal light shifts, the tide, or the eclipse cycle itself, none of it moves in a straight line.
You might have noticed the content rhythm shift just a bit over the past few months (or maybe not). This will be the first full monthly edition since May, and even though I planned to take a real break from writing, I ended up sending special editions every week in July. I just love writing for y’all so much I couldn’t help myself!
Having lived inside that summer shift, that permission for things to look and feel different, I'm realizing more and more that the straight-line logic of the human world might just be a lie we've all unconsciously agreed to keep telling each other.
Because, really? Output that only ever holds steady or climbs? No pauses? No room for something else to take its place for a while? Nothing alive actually works that way. Not the tides. Not the garden.
And whether the systems that currently shape our society realize it or not, human capacity moves like the tides. In for a while, then back out. Seasons of productivity followed by seasons of rest. (Ever try to argue with winter and plant a garden outside in January when it’s below freezing?)
Our capacity moves in and out in its own rhythm, be it for a piece of writing, for a calling, for energy, for anything…
Yet somehow, we’ve built our lives around 5-day workweeks, with only the occasional vacation or holiday to break up the hustle. Or always-on businesses where we have to dance like trained monkeys for an algorithm that never sleeps.
How’s that really working for us, I wonder?
So what might it look like for us to live by tidal logic instead? Allowing the natural ebb and flow in our bodies, in our creative work, in a season, in a year?
That’s what we’re unpacking this month.
Quote of the Month: Turn Toward What You Love
Turns out, this month’s quote author has been in my head (and my inbox) a lot recently. Some of the foundational business work I did during July was under Ash’s watchful eye. And when one of her newsletters included the following, it felt too good not to share.
“The unscheduled day is the ultimate modern luxury. It is an immediate dropping of your shoulders. A calmness. A peacefulness. A way of living that makes room for creativity. And spontaneity. And curiosity. And whatever the fuck you love.”
Permission before productivity. Allowing capacity to move on its own terms.
And even the current sky is supportive of making room for the ebb and flow of life.
Astrology of the Month: Every Page Gets Its Turn
Tomorrow (or overnight tonight, really), the fall 2026 eclipse portal closes with a full moon lunar eclipse in Pisces. It’s the last in a run of eclipses that's spent the past year and a half trading places between two signs (Virgo and Pisces). But, like most of the astrology unfolding this year, there’s more under the surface this time around.
"An eclipse is like a Full Moon with the volume turned all the way up; whatever a Full Moon does astrologically - culmination, illumination, the harvest of something sown months earlier - an eclipse does tenfold.
If a Full Moon is a page turn then an eclipse is the end of a chapter.
But this one in particular is like the end of a whole book."
This past week, he did a deep dive into the Nodes, North and South, and the way they mark the passing of eclipses. The South Node tells the story of the past (or what’s ready to be released), and the North Node tells the story of the future (or what’s ready to be born).
And because the North Node just left Pisces for Aquarius in late July, Wiz describes tomorrow’s eclipse as “the final page turn, the back cover of the book closing.”
He goes on to say,
"The lunar eclipses of this era tell the story of the book chapter by chapter, and they alternate like a tide.
We’ve had four of them, in strict rotation: Virgo, Pisces, Virgo, Pisces. The ledger, the ocean, the ledger, the ocean. The audit and the flood, taking turns."
The ebb and flow of the sky, echoing the cycles of the tides.
In, then out. Hold, then release.
Idea of the Month: Feel the Tide Turning
If everything in the universe runs on cycles and rhythms, why in the world do we humans treat it as personal failure when we feel that same pull?
I’ve been as guilty as the next person (if not more) of jumping full speed on the hustle-’til-you-die treadmill, flaming out in glorious fashion, being forced to take a break, and then doing it all again next time.
Ask me how many times I’ve told myself “it’ll be different this time!” (No, really, don’t ask me.)
You’d think I would be better at all of this, given the work I do. But even after close to two decades of stepping onto the yoga mat, returning to the body and the breath, reaching for balance, I still get seduced by the pull of status quo-defined success.
To give myself some credit, I'm much better these days at noticing when it starts to happen. Now it's more like feeling the tide start to turn instead of being pulled all the way out before I even realize I've left the shore. Some days it's just an inch of retreat, and others the whole shoreline empties before it rolls back in.
Like the end of June, when I felt a genuine pull to slow down and decided to step back from publishing on Substack, and changed up the content flow here. Or the weeks when client deadlines pile up against publication deadlines and I do what I have to do to get it all done.
On some shores, the tide has a little more room to move, ya know?
I'd bet money you've got a tide of your own running somewhere right now, even if you wouldn't necessarily call it that. Maybe it's a creative project that's gone quiet and hasn't found its way back yet. Or maybe it's the version of you that used to show up for a practice or a routine… but hasn't in a while.
None of those things needs an explanation or an inquisition. No comeback stories required (unless you really want to write one). And definitely no hard deadline for when it'll pick back up.
The beautiful thing about allowing for ebb and flow is learning to be comfortable with where your water happens to be right now. The only real question is whether you can let it be where it is, without turning it into evidence against yourself.
And maybe that's the whole practice, right there — just noticing which way the tide is moving, and doing our part to flow instead of fight it.
Photo of the Month: Taking Turns Leading
There's ebb in our flow, with a 4-year-old leading and a 13-year-old dog bringing up the rear.
Short Practice of the Month: Noticing the Turn
Sometimes it's hard to know whether a day is going to ebb or flow. For those days, I’m bringing in a simple somatic practice built to help you notice your personal rhythms instead of forcing consistency.
This short practice asks us to check in with our bodies before starting the day (or moving on to what’s next).
How to do it:
Pause where you are and let your body settle.
Close your eyes and take three long, slow breaths.
Bring your awareness to the top of your head. Scan down your body, through the shoulders, arms, torso, legs, and feet, checking in to see how everything feels.
Notice if you feel heavy or light, tense or relaxed, or some combination of both.
Take another deep breath and allow your eyes to open.
After the body scan, ask yourself, honestly: does today feel more like an ebb or a flow? Then let that information guide what happens next.
You don’t need to rearrange your whole day, but you may realize you want to give yourself a bit more grace than usual. (And for those days where you just have to buckle down and do it? I see you. Go forth and get ‘er done.)
Post of the Month: The Turn Toward What Works
Lots has been written about work-life balance in the wide world of the internet, and early in my work I spent a lot of time examining what balance looked like in real life (and on the yoga mat).
One of the bigger realizations I had early on was that “balanced” didn’t necessarily mean “even on both sides.” Hello, ebb and flow, just in different words.
"Instead of chasing ‘work life balance’… I cultivate the practices that allow me to make aligned choices. I find my own personal version of balanced and centered. And I leave the rest.
Over the years, I’ve developed a toolbox full of practices that I can turn to when life gets overwhelming. I also have a pretty good idea of what works for me in this moment, and I’m living those ideas to test out my theories. The things that work, stick around — and those that don’t, fall away."
Practices, personal rhythms, permission, preparation. What’s left once we stop chasing balance and someone else’s idea of what our days should look like?
Room for what you love, and the space to appreciate the world around you.
Song of the Month: Turn Up the Beauty
This section got a full rewrite when I learned we lost Dolly Parton on Tuesday. 80 years old, still working, still funny, still completely herself right up to the end. I'm heartbroken in a way I didn't expect to be over someone I never actually met. (Who didn’t love Dolly, honestly?)
She spent most of her adult life being soft and unstoppable in the same breath. Rhinestones and work ethic side by side. She never made herself smaller to be taken seriously, and she never let being taken seriously talk her out of the sequins and long painted nails she loved. That's not a small thing to model for that long.
And that doesn't even touch her philanthropic side. She put real resources to work over the decades. One of her projects that hits closest to home is her Imagination Library. My kiddo has received a book in the mail every month since she was born — free, no strings attached, from a program Dolly started in 1995 that's since mailed more than 100 million books worldwide.
So this month's song changed. Things may feel dark, you may be in a personal ebb, the algorithm may be fire-hosing you with doom and gloom… but Dolly’s Light of a Clear Blue Morning reminds us that the dark doesn't get the last word.
It's been a long dark night And I've been a waitin' for the morning It's been a long hard fight But I see a brand new day a dawning I've been looking for the sunshine You know I ain't seen it in so long But everything's gonna work out just fine And everything's gonna be all right That's been all wrong
'Cause I can see the light of a clear blue morning I can see the light of a brand new day I can see the light of a clear blue morning Oh, and everything's gonna be all right It's gonna be okay
This month's song gives us permission to let the dark be real and still expect the morning anyway. Choosing joy after loss is what Dolly spent her whole career proving you can do, grief and glitter both.
But sometimes joy can look an awful lot like a hiding place too (hello, spiritual bypassing and toxic positivity), especially this week, when it would be easy to skip straight past the sad part and go straight to celebration.
So let's look at how to tell the difference.
Mindset of the Month: Which Way Are You Turning?
A good ebb can be absolutely magical. The retreat that allows you to go totally off-grid and come back refreshed. The break from how you usually do things that sparks your next big idea. The unexpected space in your schedule after your plans go sideways that gives you breathing room you didn’t even know you needed.
But how can you tell the difference between honoring a real, beneficial ebb and avoiding something you’re afraid of or resistant to?
Honestly? Sometimes you can’t. At least not until you come out the other side and realize what you were doing.
A sense of guilt can often go either way — societal expectations have conditioned us to feel like we “should” be constantly productive, leaving us feeling guilty any time we take time to rest and relax. We can also end up with a lingering sense of guilt when we know we’re procrastinating or otherwise avoiding what we know we need to do.
But other times there are small tells.
The jaw that relaxes just a bit when we allow ourselves to really sink into the ebb, in whatever form it takes. The intuitive hit that where you are and what you’re doing is somehow right, even if it would be hard to explain to someone else. The state of your brain and your body when you wake up refreshed after a good night’s sleep. Or the way your day just flows (ha) when you’ve relaxed into what is.
And, funny enough, once you slow down and really settle into the ebb, your gut will be able to tell you the truth of what’s going on.
Ebb and flow is a real, vital cycle in the natural world. It's also one of the easiest stories to hide inside when what's actually happening is avoidance.
The tide doesn't lie to itself about which one it's doing. But do you?
Good news, bad news: we’re not going to resolve the question “is this leaning into the ebb or is this avoidance” today. I’d be lying if I said you could. Some things aren’t solved in the moment, and that’s okay. Normal, in fact.
Instead, we find out by living inside them for a while longer. The same way the sky doesn't declare which eclipse actually mattered once the whole cycle's done unfolding. (And even then, we’re the ones who get to make the meaning.)
The Next Turn Unfolds
As we close, remember that this edition lands in your inbox the day before that same sky closes a chapter and the next turn begins to unfold.
Wherever your own tide happens to be sitting right now — all the way in, all the way out, or somewhere restless in between — see what it would feel like to let it be exactly that.
Just noticing, and trusting the cycle knows what it's doing.
Until next time: rest, then rise.
P.S. Just a quick reminder this time around, in case you missed last week’s email. I hinted a couple of weeks ago that I was working on something for the yoga side of my business. Now that it’s done, I want to gift it to you as a subscriber.
It’s called the 90-Second Unclench. A “diagnostic” for where you’re carrying tension in your body, and a quick relaxation practice based on what you uncover.
You’ve tried so hard. You’ve held it all… the family, the work, the world… and somewhere along the way, you started to disappear. You move through your days shadowed by exhaustion, haunted by the quiet ache of Who am I, anymore? This is where you begin to remember. Resourcing the Revolution is a quiet space for those ready to rebuild from the inside out. One breath, one story, one truth at a time. Each week, you’ll receive a grounded reflection to help you slow down, reconnect, and reclaim your energy, your voice, and your sense of self. The real revolution isn’t out there. It’s inside. In the pause. In the breath. In the remembering.
