LET IT UNFOLD GRACEFULLY

Dear Ones, 

And, dear self—

After years and months of toiling away, I am delighted to announce that I have arrived at last.

Not because I’ve finally achieved the thing I want.

Not because I got the long-awaited yes after eating a gazillion rejections for breakfast.

But because of this:

The visceral feeling is here, under my skin.

It arrived after a season of pushing—months of showing up, building, pitching, sharing, striving.

I showed up in every way I knew how. 

Some landed, others floated.

One moment in particular was gruesome—it felt like an existential crisis for my old self—and I must admit, it left me sore. Not just emotionally, but spiritually too. 

Finally, I heard my soul whisper:

Let’s not try so hard anymore.


And, at long last, I agreed. 

So, I paused. 
Gave myself some time and space ... to break free from old patterns. 
Sometimes, that's all the system needs. Like an overheated appliance, it just needed to be unplugged. 

Then, what emerged was not a plan.

Not a strategy.

But a feeling.

I want to call it ... a warm relaxation.

Like an energetic hug. The kind that the body naturally falls into when you sink into a perfect bath at the end of a long day. Except this one was for my soul. 

Without trying to figure it out too much, let's just say it feels like something in me has shifted. And I'm steeping in a sense of "it's okay-ness."

I soften more and more as I learn to lean into that.

And when I soften, life meets me more easily.

 

It feels like a giving over to rhythm.

To grace.

To the unfolding that’s already underway.

And then a gentle question came to me:

What becomes possible when I stop trying to touch the dial—and just let it unfold in its own timing?

The answer rose like a wave:

Infinitude.

Everything and anything.

Because when we stop controlling the bloom—

it's a return to the wild. 

A realization that this is a collective unfolding. 

I was never alone. 

Suddenly, all those hustling questions of the old self:

How fast?

How much?

Will it be enough?

Will it even happen?

All dissolve into the background, 
leaving only one question echoing—

How gracefully will I let it all unfold?

And that, I've come to realize, 

is the most perfect place to be.