A gentle reminder to drop the hustle

and trust fall into life

Hi Loves- Just a quick note to say keep an eye on your inbox tomorrow (Monday)! I have a delicious announcement coming with goodies I hope will help you connect to the energy of the seasons, nurture your creativity, and grow in community. <3

---

Hello.

I’ve just put Noah down. He is on a bit of a nap strike which has leaked into our nighttime sleep, too. To use the word exhaustion would be redundant. 

This letter isn’t about that. But sometimes I think it’s nice to name the place and time we are meeting each other. Me- on the couch, just home from an outing at the neighborhood coffee shop (they have a kid’s play area), snacking on some pistachio cookies and a big gulp of water. 

Little one is going through a “clingy” phase. Which is cute AND challenging.

I bring up Noah’s nap time because he consistently sleeps for thirty minutes. Not longer, not shorter. So to get anything done in that amount of time feels urgent. Rushed. And that sensation of “not enough time” has been showing up in other areas of my life, too. Areas I’m tempted to flex my hustle to protect my fears.

Honestly, I’ve been feeling pretty anxious about my future as a writer and the ability to combine what I love doing with a stable income. In my head, time is running out to prove that I’ve earned the title of writer and can make it a “legit” gig. I’ve convinced myself I have three months left. Three months before Noah turns one, three months to show some traction that will buy me more time to keep doing this. 

A to-do list I made during one of my anxiety spirals.

Of course, these deadlines are completely arbitrary. (Might we say there’s even evidence of some self-sabotagy vibes creeping in)? 

There’s some shame in admitting this. I know I should believe in myself. I should trust life to open doors and opportunities to share my gifts and talents. There have been countless times a power beyond myself (call it the Universe, God, Spirit, Intuition, whatever), has come through for me. Usually, as soon as I surrender and get out of my own damn way and give up the idea I have to do this all on my own. 

The crazy-eyed look of not enough sleep and too much hustle.

It’s hard to believe good things come when we let go of control, and that’s okay.

Nature helps, as do friends and community. We need experiences of belonging to put us in our place, so to speak. To remember that we are just one small piece of the beautiful mosaic called life.

This photo is inspired by lines from Rilke’s poem, “Onto a Vast Plain.”

A few days ago, I put down my to-do list and took a coveted hike in the woods by myself. This little poem came to me on my walk. I hope it can serve as a reminder that we, too, are part of nature. We can unfold with ease and trust the change of seasons, the bare branches and prairies full of bloom. 

There's beauty in barrenness, too. Tall Grass Prairie Reserve, 2019

"Trust Fall"

The seeds are falling,
the brook, babbling
Bare earth waiting,
receiving

Gentle wind,
coaxing
Red robins perching,
dead leaves crunching

Worm moon waning,
spring buds waking
and I am,
too 

These little seeds were floating in the air everywhere on my walk.

We can choose collaboration over competition. Trust, over fear. We can synchronize our hearts and sing in harmony with life. 

This week’s invitation:

In what place and time are you reading this letter? I’d love to “meet” you there!

Where in your life can you let go and lean into trust? 

Is there someone you can reach out to for help or collaboration? (Comment below! Maybe that person is part of this community). 

---

If my writing connects with you, please pay what you can or consider upgrading to a paid membership. Your gift of reciprocity means the world. Thank you. 

P.S. Speaking of not being alone, I connected with many of you through Substack last week and I’m truly grateful. It reinforced my belief that authenticity, vulnerability, and community are possible. So, thank you for being here. You are a gift.