When I'm afraid to feel
Meeting myself in the intimacy of my surroundings
To feel abandoned is to deny the intimacy of your surroundings.1
I read David’s words as I sit in the shade along the river’s edge. The breeze blows a cool wash of air on my neck. Little birds forage in the grass beside me. Daisy’s still tight in their night buds, waiting for the sun to rise fully, coaxing them into the day.
I am tender and tired and I wonder what I’m missing. I can feel her there just below the surface asking, longing, to be heard, witnessed, loved.
I take a breath. In. And out. And again, deeper still. Filling my lungs, the stiffness of having held my breath in the shallows for too long eases slowly. Tears form at the corners of my eyes, and my heart aches just before the cracking release of feeling.
I’m afraid, a small voice appears as a thin whisper from within. I’m afraid to feel it. I’m afraid to feel it all. How can you be sure it’s safe? What if I can’t handle it?
In this moment she emerges, a tender hesitant part of me, and I greet her with a gentle invitation: Start where you are, let yourself feeling just a little of it. Step into the present slowly, hand in my hand. Begin with the first layer and nothing more. No need to rush, no need to dive all the way into the depths.
Together we’ll take it slow. Together we’ll continue building trust. Together we’ll continue to expand our capacity to feel it bit by bit. Layer by layer we’ll meet the fullness of life.
And with this, she exhales. Fully. Slowly. Leaning tentatively into trust, reminded that she’s right on time and this is enough, and she is enough.
With love,
Raina
Finding Stillness
OUR READING FOR THE WEEK AHEAD:
The week opens with the energy of Death, a card of deep release and quiet transformation. Something is ready to be composted—shed, mourned, or simply laid down. This isn’t a dramatic ending, but a natural one, asking us to honor the spaces in our lives where something has run its course. There may be grief, yes—but also a quiet clearing. A chance to loosen our grip and make space for what’s next.
We’re moving toward the Four of Pentacles reversed, an invitation to soften the protective layers we’ve built around ourselves. This might look like allowing more vulnerability, asking for support, or simply noticing where we’ve been holding on too tightly—whether to a role, a belief, or even a sense of control. At the same time, we’re letting go of the Knight of Cups, releasing the need to move through the world with grace or emotional perfection. This week isn’t about being poetic or poised—it’s about being real. Tenderness, not performance.
— An invitation for further inquiry: What am I ready to lay down so I can meet what’s next with honesty and ease?
INVITATIONS / OFFERINGS:
Building a Home Within: A three-month integrative coaching experience. An invitation to meet yourself fully, to turn inward with courage, and to create a space within that is steady, expansive, and deeply nourishing. This is for those who are ready to stop outsourcing their sense of self and belonging and instead cultivate an inner foundation that can hold them through all of life’s ebbs and flows.
Creative Support: We are booking creative projects ready to begin in May! If you know of anyone looking for creative support, branding, design, copywriting, etc. please share the Finding Stillness Studio with them.
Stille Shop: A wellspring of support for tending to the inner tides.
Did you think of someone while reading this letter? Feel free to pass it along to them ♡
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.)
This 🤲🏼✨🫁🕊️🧅