Moments of change

How do we change? How do we know when to drop old, stale ways of being? How do we get clear about our future and make positive steps towards it? Sometimes, change can be really challenging, whether life appears to throw the unexpected at us out of the apparent blue, or gives us long stretches of struggle and difficulty that bring slow, incremental change. Other times, change happens more smoothly; we feel prepared and ready and eager for the new. Sometimes we choose the change with our conscious mind; sometimes the unconscious ‘makes’ us change.

Right now, March 20 2026, the Equinox Day immediately after a New Moon, and with all the outer planets changing signs around this time, is a rare moment of change that offers a clear opening. It’s a moment that contains within it the possibility of reenergised conscious collective change, of seeing clearly what we need to do next –– if we can tune into what our future/s need us to do now. I’ll get to more thoughts on that in a bit. First of all, my story of a recent inelegant and abrupt change.

Back at the start of the year, I was walking fast down the middle of a narrow road when I lost my footing completely on black ice, and tumbled forward at some velocity. The good news is that I saved my head from crashing into the tarmac, but my wrist got broken in the process. My right, dominant, hand. After the bone was reset, my arm was in a plaster cast for the next month from elbow to fingers, and then healing for another two months before it all became better enough to write again.

It’s great to be properly back at my desk and not feebly trying to write with my left hand, but I also know I have to tread more carefully going forward and not take on more than I can readily manage. I had been saying for at least two months before the fall, with increasing desperation, that I “really needed a break” (boy, did I get one). But I had not actually created the conditions for deep rest, or even understood how much time off I needed (post-menopause, I still miss my period as a clear marker of when rest is required). Once I had broken part of myself quite literally, and simply could not work, the relief was profound, even while I was freaking out at not being able to complete a piece of writing on time or reply to emails, or move forward with some plans for developing teaching materials. The biggest realisation for me was that I had not properly dealt with my burnout symptoms even while I was observing them, and that I had to actually break myself in order to stop working for long enough. I’m a classic case of an eldest child (of parents who were themselves both eldest children), eldest daughter, eldest granddaughter, with an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. This is not the first time that I’ve dealt with the collision between what I actually can do and what I think I should do by unconsciously creating disasters that have taken me out of action for a while.

But this is not only personal and linked to my own family history and inherited temperament. It is also a collective issue connected to the productivity focus and economic demands of late-stage capitalism. And this complex and unsatisfactory way of life that we almost all struggle with is in turn more vulnerable to cyclical change than we might like to admit. Our mutual energies ebb and flow: we seem to at times to all be tired, or all energised.

One of the ways humanity has over millennia told itself the story of change, of these ebbs and flows, is through astrology. The end of last year marked the end of several long cycles, and January and February this year were the emptying out point, the lowest ebb of those tides. (i know many people who felt like me towards the end of 2025, and who have been focusing on self-healing, on resting and retreat.) Right now is the moment of refilling, when the tide turns, and we begin to remake our collective story. It’s tragic that the most apparent way that story is being told in this moment is primitive and furious, through the vehicle of war and destruction. But that’s not the only way for this time-space to be shaped: some of us have been gifted with a vision of how life could be that has different priorities, and are actively working towards that.

Feminism is a movement that draws on a range of philosophies of hope and reimagination, on concepts of liberation, fulfilment, potential, and justice, in order to design a better society, a more beautiful life, a fairer and kinder world. The way society organises itself is not an absolute, and we can change it. The work to destigmatise menstruation; to live healthier, saner, wiser lives through deeper understanding of body, soul, and meaning; to free women and girls the world over from patriarchal oppression – this work is part of remaking culture; of reframing what it means to be human; of moving purposely forward, patiently and over centuries, towards a world without war.

So let us take our broken parts, our lapses of awareness, our exhaustion and fatigue, our sense of moral injury, our despair and hopelessness, and turn that into a big soup of renewal., Boil it all up, stir it lovingly, love all of who you are, including the clueless parts, the tired parts, the clumsy and inept parts. Regroup and reimagine. Begin gently to move again forward, to reshape our story with more confidence in the movement that for many of us alive today underpins so much of what we do.

‘Coincidentally’ as I was writing this piece, Rebecca Solnit’s inspiring article on feminism was published in the Guardian last week. Do check it out.

As for my work, one of my past students said brightly, well your fall was perfect timing for CMS! She was right – I had sent out all the marking feedback and certificates for Years One and Two 2025 the day before, and had 12 weeks before the start of the next course. You gotta love the unconscious!

So, Contemporary Menstrual Studies Year One starts on March 24 this year. We have a great group from around the world coming together, with a few places remaining open. There is still time to enrol if you get your skates on and submit your application in the next couple of days. Go here to find out more and access the application form:  https://laraowen.com/contemporary-menstrual-studies-year-one/

With love,

Lara

P.S. The photo above was taken a couple of days ago. It’s a magnificent magnolia stellata in my front garden that bursts into bloom every year close to the equinox. I thank the woman who planted it, decades ago. Her choice now gives me and everyone who sees it a little burst of energy and hope and love for our world. Let’s all be her today, planting something, literally or figuratively, for the future good.