Why We Cling to the Small

The Anatomy of the Grip

Where in your life are you still holding onto a "sinking boat" because the open sea feels too big to become at one with it?

On Saturday I held a powerful container with my soul sister and medicine woman - Micheala. We gathered to meet the archetype of letting go (the myth of sedna - she's deeply weaving with the astrology of 2026.  
The energy in the room was raw and alive with release - a profound collective exhale 

 We are often told that "letting go" is a quiet, graceful act—a leaf falling from a tree or a soft exhale. But for those of us who have known the deep freeze of betrayal, letting go feels less like peace and more like the myth of Sedna.

In the myth, Sedna is thrown overboard by her own father to save his own skin. As she clings to the side of his kayak, he takes a knife and cuts off her fingers, one by one, until she sinks into the dark, Arctic depths.
If you are still "clinging" to the memory of a betrayal—a father who didn't protect, a husband who broke a vow, or a lover who promised the world only to let you go when the storm hit—I want you to know: The clinging is not a weakness. It is a survival reflex. We cling because we believe that our life, our value, and our safety are still attached to the "boat" of the person who hurt us. We think we are drowning girls, unaware that we are actually becoming Goddesses.

The Medicine of the Witness
In the depths, Sedna doesn’t just "get over it." She sits in the dark with hair that is matted and tangled with the sins and sorrows of the world above. Because she lost her fingers, she cannot groom herself. She is trapped in the mess of her own trauma until a Shaman swims down to sit with her, to see her, and to gently comb her hair.
This is the first piece of medicine: We cannot "self-care" our way out of primal betrayal. Trauma that is not witnessed becomes "matted." It stays heavy. If you find yourself still looping back to that last traumatic experience, it may be because that part of your story hasn't been properly "combed" yet. We need healers, friends, and witnesses to sit with us in the cold and say: "I see what happened. It was a betrayal of the highest order. You were meant to be protected." Sharing our wisdom is how we comb each other’s hair. It turns the "matted" trauma into a smooth, flowing power.

The Terror of the "Open Sea"
But there is a second, more daunting reason we cling: The fear of our own vastness.
As long as we are "the one who was hurt," our world remains small and manageable. We have a reason to stay hidden. We have a reason to keep our expectations low. But if we let go of that kayak—if we accept that the boat is gone—we face a terrifying reality: We are no longer the girl in the water. We are the Ocean.
To move from the "victim" to the "authority" is a heavy lift. It means:
• No longer waiting for the boat to turn around.
• Realising that the "fingers" we lost have transformed into "whales"—massive, life-giving ideas and strengths that now feed others.
• Stepping into the service and mission of our lives: the place where we stop being defined by what was done to us and start being defined by the wisdom we carry.

Closing: Outgrowing the Boat
If you are still clinging today, look up at the boat. Look at the person holding the knife. Look at how small their vessel is—how limited they are by their own fear and their inability to handle the "Deep."
The Truth: You were never meant to fit in that kayak. You were always too big for it.
The betrayals didn't "drop" you into an abyss; they released you into your Kingdom. You are no longer asking for a seat at the table or a spot in the boat. You are the one who governs the tides.
The Question: Are you afraid of the water, or are you afraid of how powerful you will be once you realise you can swim?

This journey from clinging to sovereignty is the heart of my new 8-week course: Rebirth Your True Essence: Working with the Myth of Inanna. Like Sedna, Inanna descends—but she chooses it. She strips away everything she thought she was, layer by layer, until she meets her own death and is reborn. If Sedna's story shows us what we lose when we let go, Inanna's shows us what we become on the other side: sovereign, whole, and radically alive. Over eight weeks, we'll walk her descent together, reclaiming the parts of you that were thrown overboard, silenced, or forgotten. This is an invitation to stop gripping the boat and start governing the depths.