The Spiral
When expansion isn't escape — it's evolution
A Facebook memory popped up yesterday.
Fourteen years ago, I moved into Casa Panama on Playa el Coco Nicaragua
a four-bedroom beach house. Wrapped in Panama trees.
I lived there for three years.
I had my bodywork studio steps from the ocean,
flowy white curtains moving with the salt air.
I wasn’t dreaming.
I was living it.
I was constructing a life in alignment.
Compassionate service as my livelihood.
Healing in the rhythm with water.
Panama was the seed.
And yesterday, looking at the photo, I realized
I’m expanding again.
14 years later, I’m not starting over
I’m spiraling upward.
I’m opening my garage art studio.
Expanding into Circles.
Letting my creative work take up more space.
On the surface, it looks similar:
Self-employed.
Healing.
Creating space.
But internally?
It’s entirely different.
Back then, there were questions underneath it all;
Will they value me?
Will I be met, will they get it?
Will I lose myself in this?
My nervous system was bracing.
Now?
There’s expansion without panic - well, a little. I’m human.
Visibility without collapse.
Growth without self-abandonment.
I’m not the local beach healer;
I was meant to mature into someone who can hold power and
transformation without flinching.
This isn’t a repeating.
It’s a spiral.
And spirals rise.
My mentor calls them “pass-throughs.”
Moments where you walk through the same doorway,
But you’re not the same person walking.
You process.
You refine.
You deepen.
You expand.
Not to become louder.
But to become steadier.
Calmer.
More valuable because you are more anchored.
Here’s what I’m learning:
What if the fear you feel when you’re expanding isn’t a red flag?
What if it’s your nervous system calibrating to a bigger room?
Expansion can feel shaky,
It’s unfamiliar at this altitude.
Reflection for you:
When you think about growing, stretching, spiraling upward —
does it feel like chasing?
Or does it feel like a calling you can’t ignore?
There’s a difference.
One depletes you.
The other deepens you.
Panama was the seed.
This is the oak tree.
I am no longer asking for permission to grow.
We’re all spiraling and remembering.
We’re all learning to trust the spiral.






