Align Your Orbit #95 - Prune & Propagate
Align Your Orbit is a series of philosophical and somatic experiments to guide intentionality and impact. Find delight in these journeys of exploration. If you would like to receive these offerings as an email on the new moon, sign up here.
There are times to grow something new and times to strengthen what is already present. We can plant seeds or we can cut growth from what is already healthy and stick it in the ground to grow again. It’s time to groom, prune, preen in preparation for the coming season.
In our death-phobic culture, we often deny what is weakening and fading away. Don’t miss this golden opportunity to be part of a beautiful transition. Stare unflinchingly as the leaves change color and honor these fallen branches. This is the ceremony you have been waiting for.
Want to experience these experiments as a Tidal playlist?
New Experiments
1. simplify & solidify – At least in the Northern hemisphere, it’s pruning and harvest season. Open new eyes to what’s fruiting, what’s overabundant, and what’s dying back. Be honest about the probability of new growth in the future and honor the past that brought us here. Say goodbye to what is leaving and hold on to what keeps you strong.
Challenge Mode: There’s a human temptation to think and speak in absolutes, but the truth of the matter is that nothing is all one way or another. We cannot see the whole picture if we throw out the good with the bad. There is merit in everything, even if we don’t want to admit it. Allowing the hidden benefits of discomfort to go unacknowledged only breeds ghosts.
2. fly your freak flag – We are not clones of each other—that’s kinda the point of being alive. So, what’s unique about you? What do you care about that no one else seems to take an interest in? Amplify your particular strangeness, the cravings, the rabbit-hole interests. Stand out from the crowd and don’t wait for validation.
Challenge Mode: Write down three conversation topics you would never bring up at a party and then bring them anyway. Stop settling for surface-level interactions. Depth is available, but you have to be the one to fill your lungs and dive. Invite people to come with you into the oceans of what is possible together in experience.
3. invite reflection – We are tilted mirrors of the universe experiencing itself, and without that reflection, we stop shining. Consider where reflective practices have dropped out of your group spaces and thought processes. This is not an optional step—it’s the harvest and nourishment itself.
Challenge Mode: Balance big-picture conversations with sinking into the moment. Both inform each other and are necessary for thriving relationships. If you find areas where that balance has shifted, shine a spotlight. Your people are ready to grow with you.
4. put in your path – Reduce barriers to physical care by putting your tools right next to you. Leave out the resistance bands, keep the speaker in the kitchen, wear your exercise pants to work. Your body needs you back—take one step closer.
Challenge Mode: When the pruning comes too late, when the soil is not nourishing enough to grow, there is no shame in calling it quits. Say mercy often and ask for help in extricating from the situation. It is mutual need that reinforces community—not self-sufficiency. Allow yourself to be the first one to falter.
andra’s Recap of Choice Point
The experiments from this previous moon cycle included every moment an occasion (challenge mode: move on objects that feel like dead weight), map the threads you’re holding (challenge mode: assess the platforms you use), comfortable discomfort (challenge mode: give the gift of care), and power off and back on again (challenge mode: listen to what’s calling you back toward movement).
My favorite moment from this month was when, after reading a delicious scene from a book out loud to a loved one, another loved one came in and joined our giddy giggles without context. They handed us wine glasses, and we all acted like drunk teenagers on a third of a can of cider as we sat talking about the book on the floor. It was perfect and delightful and everything I needed to recharge.
I am still hoarding my tinctures and wine bottles, but I have enjoyed looking for opportunities to make the mundane a celebration, and having a little one is great practice. Every time we put on clothes, every time we change a diaper, we make it a game. We celebrate our success in the completion.
The process of moving on old or stagnant objects is lifelong, and I am still in the thick of it, but I appreciate the renewed sense of groundedness and purpose in returning to that task. I coordinated with more than twenty families to send out plums from our three trees, and I still have more to give away. It is good to experience this kind of abundance, and I profoundly understand how taking from it is also a gift.
I spent time trying to map the threads I am holding, and it didn’t fully fit on the mind map template I had chosen, which was a big red flag. I know I need to drop yet more things as my working hours decrease and I pick up more childcare, and making those decisions is not easy. Many of those threads are placeholders I would like to come back to once the baby is a little older, but it’s hard to see clearly into those possible futures, and the world could be a very different place then. I need to spend time listening to my deepest intuition about where I am called and can be best received.
In the desire to get off extractive platforms such as Google, I have taken an interest in a platform in testing called Kaleida. It is a one-stop shop for activist organizations with file storage, project management, video meetings, and connections to other similar organizations all in one place. I’ve been part of an alpha testing group, and it’s thrilling to see this encrypted platform grow and expand as new organizations come online.
I don’t know that I came to any sage conclusions about how to tell when discomfort is coming from growing pains and when it comes from genuinely heading in the wrong direction, but I have gotten better at admitting when my capacity is tapping out, either way. I cannot grow sustainably if I am being stretched too far beyond my comfort zone. Committing myself to returning to what is hard at a later moment, I have had to admit when I simply don’t have the nervous system regulation to show up in a particular setting.
In an attempt to circumvent the temptation to go numb to the harm in the world, I read the book Active Hope, which talks about how to address the climate crisis without losing our minds. When I learn about a new catastrophe (the glacial flood disaster in Tibet was heavy on my heart this moon), I try this practice (The Work that Reconnects) to hold it and allow it to do work through me rather than simply scrolling past.
Resetting my nervous system has been a must-do this cycle with prolonged crying bouts, an emergency room visit, and feeling at the outer edge of my capacity. Sometimes that means going outside, rolling a heavy ball in my hands, or sitting with cannabis. Sometimes it means writing a scene or two of a romance novel that takes me far away from here, wearing my headphones, or shaking until I can settle myself. I’m still practicing these skills, but I am always looking for more ways to ground in and return to the present moment.
I am starting to take my stretching practice seriously again after hip, back, and neck pain have returned full force. I remind myself that, while I am taking care of the baby, I also need to take care of myself. My body is the seat of my power and capacity, and we need to collaborate on strengthening and caring for it together. I am here for the baby to set an example on how to prioritize what my body needs, and I’d like to start doing that now.
Thanks for reading this cycle’s experiments! Good luck out there.