Easter’s over, but I’m still finding the odd Purdys chocolate egg between the sofa cushions.

The rain finally broke, and now my garden looks like it’s showing off. Daffodils and tulips everywhere in yellow and orange, with water droplets still clinging to the petals. Everything’s coming up at once, almost too much colour after all that grey.

Meanwhile, four astronauts are halfway to the Moon.

Artemis II launched last Wednesday. They’re the first humans to travel beyond Earth’s orbit in over fifty years. They’ll loop around the far side of the Moon, farther from home than any human has ever been, and return on April 10th. I love that the spacecraft is named Integrity, and the mission mascot, Rise, was designed by an eight-year-old.

I keep thinking about what it means to go that far from everything you know. And how the only way to see the far side is to keep going, because you can’t glimpse it from here.

That’s the energy this week.

Everything is blooming at once

There’s a lot of fire in the air right now. A lot of “go.” A lot of initiating energy that’s been building for weeks and is finally ready to move.

This week, that energy comes home with the urge to stop waiting. It actually becomes almost physical. You’ll feel it in your body before you understand it in your mind.

The cosmos is basically handing you the car keys and saying, drive.

But what deserves your fire, and what doesn’t? With this much momentum available, you could aim it anywhere, you could scatter it, or you could burn hot and fast and wonder later what you were even doing.

Or you could choose.

What to expect

The fire is real, and the momentum is available, so you’re going to want to act on everything, all at once.

I’m sure your instincts are good right now, but instinct without intention is just impulse. So before you launch, ask yourself, Is this where I want to go?

Not every urge is a calling, and not every grand plan needs a microphone just because it walked in wearing a nice jacket and making eye contact.

This is the week to be intentional about your fire. Decide what’s worth your energy, and what’s just noise dressed up as urgency.

The grace to make mistakes

There’s something else I want to say about this much fire. You’re not going to get it all right. And you don’t have to.

Four astronauts are currently hurtling through space in a capsule called Integrity, trusting systems that have never been tested with humans aboard. Oh, sure, they trained for years and are prepared for everything, but they don’t know exactly what they’ll find on the far side of the Moon.

That’s what real beginning looks like. You trust yourself, prepare, and then you go anyway, knowing you’ll have to adjust as you learn.

The shadow will show up this week. Seriously. Old patterns, reactive impulses, and places where your fire has burned you before.  Look at them, and then keep moving.

You’re allowed to make mistakes, and you’re supposed to make mistakes. That’s how you learn what your fire is actually for.

The belief that won’t survive this week

“I need to wait until I’m sure.”

You’re not going to be sure. That’s not how this works.

The far side of the Moon has never been seen up close by human eyes. And the only way to see it is to go there. You can’t wait for certainty. You have to trust the trajectory and adjust along the way.

Same with whatever you’re building.

Move before you’re ready. (Sound familiar? We started the year with this one.)

The fire is here, the momentum is real, and you’ve been preparing longer than you think.

Why this matters

This week, everything is blooming at once. The garden, the sky, and your own momentum.

It’s not going to be tidy. And it’s not going to be linear. It’s going to be bright and abundant and a little overwhelming. 

Let your body remember what it feels like to move.

And when the shadow shows up, because it will, don’t run from it. The integration is part of the fire, just like the mistakes are part of the learning. The going-anyway is part of the becoming.

Somewhere out there, four humans are seeing what no one has ever seen before. And here on the ground, the daffodils are blooming like they’ve been waiting all winter for exactly this moment. They have. So have you.

Jonni

P.S. However you spend this week, whether you’re launching something, tending something, or just letting the fire catch, I hope you give yourself permission to begin before you’re ready. That’s how every good thing starts.