To the One Who Is Holding On

Dear friend,

You don’t have to let go all at once.

I need you to hear that first.

Because I know you’re bracing.

White-knuckled around something you’ve outgrown.

Wrapped in control that used to feel like protection, but now feels like a cage.

Spinning through stories that once made sense, but now feel like a version of you that no longer fits.

You’ve tried so hard to hold it all—the image, the plan, the performance, the people.

But here’s the truth that keeps finding you in the quiet:

It’s not holding you anymore. And it never really did.

It only convinced you that if you let go, you’d fall.

But love,

not all falling is breaking. Some of it is becoming.

The trees know this. They don’t resist the fall.

They don’t shame the release. They don’t grip the branch tighter and try to talk themselves out of the truth.

They know that the only way to stay rooted…is to surrender to the season.

And I know surrender doesn’t feel safe when you’ve built your safety on structure.

But you were never meant to live braced.

Your body is craving softness. A true exhale.

Your spirit is asking for something real.

Your intuition has been whispering all along:

You are not too much.

You are not falling apart.

You are falling into yourself.

So if you need a sign, a mirror, a place to land—let this be it.

Not a push. Not a demand. Just a gentle invitation:

What if you loosened your grip?

What might you feel?

What might you remember?

What might finally be free to rise?

This is the season of the trust fall.

Let it come. Let the brittle fall away.

Let what’s been buried come back to the surface.

Let the leaves of your former self scatter.

And let what’s true…stay.

I’m here when you’re ready.

Not to catch you.

But to remind you:

You were always meant to fly.

Practice Postscript

where the letter stops being read and starts being lived.

Everyday Practice:

When your body gets tight, your body is not betraying you.

It’s signaling that something is asking to be felt.

What if you listened—not with urgency or evaluation—but with compassion?

Try this with me:

Place one hand on your chest. One on your belly.

Take one slow breath. Ask gently:

What part of me is afraid to let go? What am I afraid to feel?

You don’t need an answer. Just presence.