In conversations, there is often more being shared than the story itself.
I’ve long been attentive to what lives beneath people’s words - the undercurrents that shape how life moves, how choices form, how meaning is made. And at times, certain moments bring that awareness into sharper relief, not as something new, but as something asking to be named more clearly.
A recent conversation with a client made this especially visible.
On the surface, she was speaking about having to move quickly, about higher rent, about money feeling tight. It sounded like pressure, like things becoming more difficult. But beneath the details, what I sensed was not instability - it was reorganization.
Not disruption for the sake of disruption, but uprooting in service of rerouting.
The way it unfolded wasn’t logical. It didn’t follow the tidy progression the mind prefers. And yet, there was a quiet sense of being held - of life responding to her movement in ways that didn’t match her expectations, but met her nonetheless.
Many of us have known this feeling - when life seems to be asking more of us, yet something underneath feels strangely purposeful.
What stood out most was this:
It unfolds slower where we grasp.
Her movement interrupted a long-standing pattern - one shaped early in life. A momentum that said, I have to take care of everything myself. That survival meant effort. That money arrived through strain. That receiving required control.
And when that kind of momentum has been running for years, even abundance moves through effort.
The physical move disrupted that current. It didn’t make things instantly easier, but it created space. And space is what allows new forms of support to find us.
Flow is not ease. Flow is momentum.
I think many of us have been taught - spiritually and culturally - that flow is supposed to feel good. That if things aren’t smooth, abundant, or effortless, we must be blocked or misaligned.
But that isn’t true.
Flow is simply movement.
It’s the direction energy has learned to travel.
Struggle can be flow.
Self-reliance can be flow.
Scarcity can be flow.
Ease can be flow.
The difference isn’t whether we’re in flow - it’s what the flow is organized around.
When our momentum has been shaped by “I’ll do it myself,” life responds faithfully. Support arrives through effort. Money comes through pushing. Stability is maintained by control.
There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s adaptive. It’s intelligent.
But it does narrow the ways receiving can arrive.
Seeing the repair loop
Later that same day, I spoke with a man at the grocery store. He was kind, present, and clearly a father wanting to give what he could. Something in his energy reminded me of waiting for a Christmas bonus many years ago - how that extra money would go straight into making the holidays special. Gifts, experiences, proof of love.
It brought up a familiar cycle:
We work hard.
We stretch.
There’s not much extra.
Then something extra arrives - and we rush to repair what once felt missing.
There’s generosity in that. Love in it.
And there’s also an unconscious loop.
When something larger arrives all at once, it often reveals this pattern clearly. There may be a vision for how it could unfold, how it might support the future. And at the same time, an old reflex can activate - moving quickly to help, to give, to repair - before there is space to feel what is actually being asked.
There was nothing wrong with that.
It simply showed me something.
Sometimes money becomes a stand-in for time, presence, or care we wish we could have given before. When we don’t see that clearly, receiving can turn into depletion again - just in a different form.
Seeing it without judgment is what creates choice next time.
Thresholds make the mechanics visible
I’ve noticed that these patterns are much easier to see when we’re standing in a threshold - when something is changing, dissolving, or reorganizing.
Thresholds thin the story.
They reveal the mechanics beneath our lives:
where energy loops
- where flow narrows
- where receiving gets rerouted into effort or repair
- This isn’t about fixing ourselves.
It’s about witnessing how our creations have been moving all along.
And once we can see the current, we can gently alter it.
We are always in flow
For a long time, I believed flow was something to achieve. A state to arrive at. A sign that I was doing life “right.”
What I see now is simpler - and more freeing.
We are always in flow.
The work isn’t forcing ease or rejecting generosity.
It’s learning what our momentum has been shaped by.
Where we grip.
Where we rush.
Where we allow.
Where we still believe we must manage it all alone.
When we can stand in the river instead of fighting it, we begin to ask different questions—not “What’s wrong?” but “What is this current teaching me?”
And from there, change happens naturally.
Not by pushing.
But by widening the channel
Where in your life might something be reorganizing - not because you’ve failed, but because a different way of receiving is becoming possible?
With love and blessings,
Susan