Lady Uppity woke feeling sad.
And a little terrified.
Perhaps I’m just a little homesick.
After all, it had been two months since she left home, relocating while the mold was eradicated and the flooring repaired. Insurance delays had stretched the work far longer than anyone expected.
Lost in thought, sipping her morning coffee and contemplating the sadness, she was reminded of a quote by spiritual teacher Ram Dass:
You can’t rip the skin off the snake. The snake must molt the skin.
“Ah, there it is,” she whispered softly to no one. “Yes, I am missing home, but something more is here as well.”
I am molting.
I am terrified.
She stopped and took another sip of coffee.
That word—terrified—baffled her.
What was she afraid of?
The insurance company and work crews dragging their feet were a nuisance, but that was not frightening.
Yes, she missed her own space, her familiar chair, and the quiet rhythm of home.
She was comfortable here with her dear friend, Lady Birdsong, whose kindness had been a steady blessing.
No.
None of that explained this feeling.
This terror came from somewhere deeper.
She wasn’t simply homesick.
She was molting.
Leaving behind what no longer fit.
Having no idea what came next.
No wonder it felt terrifying.
It was the moment when certainty had disappeared…
And trust had not yet fully arrived.
She could no longer be the woman who waited for certainty before she trusted herself.
She sat quietly for a long while before another question arose.
What if I didn’t have to outrun the terror?
The thought surprised her.
Perhaps courage wasn’t the absence of fear.
Perhaps courage was simply the willingness to remain present while fear sat beside her.
Another question quietly followed.
Can I remain here, present, while certainty is absent?
She didn’t know the answer.
Not yet.
But something inside her had already begun to soften.
Yes, she was standing before that door.
The next step was hers alone.
She picked up her pen once more.
I am sad.
I am homesick.
I am frightened.
And still…
Here I am.
Kneeling before this sacred threshold.