The Energetics of Letting Go: Lessons from the Solstice

Aloha mai, and welcome back to my little corner of the interwebs.

It’s been a few weeks since I last sat down to write, but after crossing through the energetic portal of the solstice, I’ve felt a shift. A wave of clarity has been moving through me. I cleaned and organized my home, reconnected with a younger version of myself who’s been holding onto resentment, and sat in deep gratitude for how far I’ve come since the last solstice.

Today, something clicked.

As I was driving through my neighborhood, I passed a familiar street where the trees form a tunnel overhead. I take this road every week on my way to the grocery store, and lately I’ve been noticing the leaves change color—bright yellow, then deep orange. But instead of falling right away, they lingered for weeks. Then today, the leaves were gone. The trees stood bare, branches stretched toward the sky like open hands. And it hit me: even though the weather had changed abruptly—autumn melting into winter almost overnight—the trees were still following nature’s rhythm. They waited until the solstice to fully release.

And that’s when the lesson landed.

Sometimes we’re ready to let go before we’re actually in rhythm with our nature.
We can pull cords, purge, and burn it all down—but if it’s not aligned with our internal timing, nothing really shifts. Healing has to land in your body before it can truly transform you.

Let me be real.
Cord cutting works. Energy pulling? Also works. But if you’re cutting cords to your toxic ex just to hook up with him again next weekend… baby, we didn’t cut anything but your patience.

We live in a world that teaches us to rush through healing.
To get over it. To be the bigger person. To "just move on."
But some things aren’t meant to be rushed. They’re meant to be felt. Sat with. Savored. Even the painful things—especially the painful things. Because those are the ones that root deep and transform you.

There’s wisdom in waiting until your system is actually ready to release.

So the next time someone tries to pressure or rush you into “moving on,” I want you to remember this:
You don’t have to let go before you're ready.
You can hold onto something for as long as you need, until it turns brown and brittle and breaks off on its own.
Until it feels right—deep in your gut, down to your roots.

And when that moment finally comes—when you’re ready to stop carrying what’s no longer yours—I’ll be here. I’ll hold space for you, no judgment, just love. We’ll lay it down together. We’ll align your energy with the version of you who’s ready to bloom.

Mōhalu.
Your time to unfurl, to blossom without restraint.
To become the version of you that you’ve always known was there, waiting.