Cosmic Reset

When the Sky Changes, So Do We

There are moments in the year when you can feel the sky shifting before anything in your life visibly changes.

This is one of them.

Mid-March always feels like standing at the edge of something.

Not fully in winter.
Not fully in spring.

Just… in between

I’ve been noticing it in the light.

It lingers a little longer. The air is still cold, but it feels different. Like winter is still here… but no longer in charge.

And I feel that same shift inside of me.

February didn’t feel dramatic, but it changed something.

It cleared some of the noise.
Loosened my grip on things I used to hold onto.
Brought a kind of awareness I haven’t felt before.

Not clarity.

 Not answers.

Just recognition.

Of what doesn’t feel the same anymore.
Of what I don’t have the same energy for.
Of how I feel about things now… compared to how I used to.

I’m not trying to change anything.

I just don’t carry things the same way.

And I can feel something shifting because of that.

Not outward yet… just internally.

We’re halfway through March.

Right before everything turns.

This time of year always feels like something is quietly wrapping up… even if nothing has fully ended.

I can feel that in myself.

This in-between space.

Where something has shifted…
but hasn’t fully taken shape yet.

And instead of rushing it, I’ve been sitting here.

Just noticing.

No need to define it.
No need to make a plan.

Because I know now—whatever comes next won’t come from forcing it.

It will come from alignment.

I’m not meeting things the same way anymore.

That’s what’s different.

And I see it most clearly here—

The difference between overthinking
and knowing.

Overthinking loops.
Tries to solve.
Looks for certainty.

That’s how I used to move.

Knowing is quiet.

It doesn’t argue.
It doesn’t chase clarity.

It just… lands.

And when I’m overthinking, I can feel it now—

I’m trying to override something I already know.

Something that’s already settled… if I let it.

That’s the part I trust now.

The quieter part.

The one that doesn’t explain itself…
but feels steady the moment I notice it.

This point in March always feels like a pause.

Where light and dark are about to meet in equal measure…
before everything tips forward again.

Not ending.
Not beginning.

Just… real.

I used to think I needed clarity before anything could change.

But I see it differently now.

The shift happens first.

The understanding comes later.

So maybe this moment isn’t about doing anything.

Just allowing what’s already changed…
to make space for what’s next.

Because the sky is changing.

And I can feel that… in me.

And this time… I’m listening.

Living the shift, one quiet moment at a time
— Sheri