Cleopatra | What She Taught Me in the Not Knowing

Let yourself be powerful, even in the not knowing.

Not many months ago, I found myself in a space I didn’t enjoy, but that I was learning to respect.
It was the space of not having a clue of what I was doing with my life.

It wasn’t dramatic, but I felt a quiet (and subtle) confusion climbing in after a period of movement.
Clarity seemed nowhere to be found.
The things that made sense before no longer did.
I don’t know if you have ever experienced what it feels like looking at everything you’ve built (and dismantled) and asking yourself, “What now?”

Well, that morning, I saw her.

Cleopatra.
In a painting my mother had pointed out to me in an art gallery, randomly, or maybe not.
It showed her just as the asp (the snake) bit her skin. The moment before death. The moment of surrender.
The image made me pause. I’ve always had a strong aversion to snakes so I felt both a discomfort and a fascination. Something was speaking to me, even if I didn’t yet understand it.

Few hours later, I bumped into an article: “Cleopatra’s codes are resurfacing.”
And just like that, she was everywhere. In my thoughts. In my energy field. In my day.

The Cleopatra we’ve been fed: queen, beauty, seductress, tragic lover. But that morning, I saw in her something different and much deeper.

She didn’t arrive in my field to remind me of what power looks like.
She arrived to remind me of what power feels like when you're standing in uncertainty.
When you have nothing left to prove, and no idea what’s next.

She Met Me in the Void

That’s the part that landed most:
She didn’t show up in gold or surrounded by admirers as history remembers her.
She showed up in the moment before the end.
In a place of not knowing. Of no longer having control.

And even in that moment, there was something sovereign about her.

She didn’t beg, hide or seek approval.
She simply allowed what was coming to come.

There was a calmness in her gaze in that painting that I couldn't stop thinking about.
Not because she felt victorious, but because she had accepted what was true.
And in that acceptance, I saw the deepest form of power.

What Cleopatra Taught Me

She showed me that leadership isn’t about always having the next move.
It’s about how you hold yourself in the pause. In the unraveling.
In the space where nothing makes sense.

That not knowing is not a failure of clarity. It’s part of the process.
That uncertainty doesn’t mean I’ve lost direction; it means something deeper is rearranging inside me.

She reminded me that feminine power isn’t always about action.
Sometimes, it’s about the way we stay rooted when everything feels unclear.
The way we breathe into discomfort instead of running from it.
The way we don’t abandon ourselves when we can’t explain or perform who we are.

An Invitation to Reflect

I share this, not because I have the answers, but because I know how disorienting it can feel to lose clarity.
And maybe you’re there too.
Maybe you’re in the void, tired of pretending you’ve got it all together.
Maybe you’re sitting in silence, waiting for something real to return to you.

So let me ask:

• Where are you still performing strength when softness is what’s needed?

• What part of you are you still afraid to meet because it feels too quiet, too uncertain or too unstructured?

• What if this phase is not a pause in your power, but the gateway into a deeper version of it?

Final Thought

Cleopatra’s codes, to me, are not about domination or seduction.
They’re about deep feminine sovereignty, especially in the moments when everything else is falling away.

And maybe the snake wasn’t a threat.
Maybe it was the final teacher.
The one that whispered: You are still a Queen, even here. Even now. Even like this.

Let that be enough.

Let yourself be powerful, even in the not knowing.