The still point, the place of caught breath
Permission to not know
This is the solstice, the still point
of the sun, its cusp and midnight,
the year’s threshold
and unlocking, where the past
lets go of and becomes the future;
the place of caught breath, the door
of a vanished house left ajar...
—
Margaret Atwood
Hello, love,
It’s nearly the end of another year and I’ve entirely missed (or avoided?) the season for promoting my offerings and shop. Though I’ve thought about sending notes, gift guides, a discount, shop updates, etc. etc. many times, instead I’ve been swimming in the deep, resting in the dark, lighting candles, expanding my capacity to dream big, and locating trust between the grief and the joy and the many unknowns that accompany the experience of being a human.
Solstice has come and gone. The days are already moving towards lighter, brighter, longer ones, and I’m sinking even more deeply into my cocoon, curling up in the tender cave to shelter and drawing warmth from within as I prepare to experience this season in a whole new way, no longer willing to abandon myself in service of pleasing others.
Dried oranges strung in a garland adorn our windows to the outside world. Cauliflower, sweet potato, roasted chicken for dinner, and apple crisp for a sweet treat. Tears mix with laughter as we hold one another on the journey of letting go of healing fantasies inspired by make-believe families in one-dimensional holiday movies.
We let our hearts break wide open to embrace the raw truth that we are the adults now, and we are the ones choosing the circumstances of our privileged lives. We light our own candles, sprinkle the fairy dust, and choose who we keep company with. We reach inward and carry our younger selves into the safety of the present. We write a whole new fairy tail layered with truth, vulnerability, nuance, duality, and, above all, courageous honesty.
As the year gets ready to turn over and carry us into a new one I’m resting in the permission to not know a thing about anything other than this present moment. This breath. This tender ache. The joy that floods my body and explodes in laughter. A curiosity for what’s possible when I let go of what isn’t.
Things are changing. Everything is always changing and so am I and so are you.
Our job is not to know or control or plan or strategize or manifest our way to a more fruitful, rewarding, and free future.
Our invitation is to return again and again to the here and now. To experience the fruit of this moment, the gift of being in the fertile darkness, in the deep, slowly and gently moving toward the light. Holding grief and joy like sisters in the moonlight of our loving and unconditional presence.
Darling, may we meet again in the new year, rested and glowing softly with curiosity for this next unfolding.
May we continue practicing presence together.
With an ocean of love and gratitude,
Raina
The calendars arrived, and they are even more beautiful in person!
I’d love to send one your way in the new year.
RECEIVE YOURS HERE
(Also, scroll down for a decidedly not black-friday/cyber-monday/in-time-for-the-holidays discount at the end of this letter :)
🕯️ Stille Shop – Free shipping on orders over $100 (applies automatically) through December and 10% off orders over $50 through January with code RENEWAL
A note on imperfection & typos — Being blessed with the gift of dyslexia means typos often sneak in, sometimes comically. As I continue disentangling from perfectionism and sharing more freely, I’m spending less time editing and trusting it’s okay to show up just as I am. Please know that any typos you spot reflect my imperfect human nature, not a lack of care or devotion. (I know this needs no explanation, but openly acknowledging this part of myself is deeply healing, so thank you for witnessing.)