Some of the most precious moments of my life have been unspoken, unnarrated by the tyrannical self who ever hungered for more. They arrived unbidden, bearing a silhouette to their sound, carrying in their glassy body both the first, gasping breath and the final hushed surrender of it— each equal in their tender allowance.
Keeper of the stillness,
Deficiency is the most socially and spiritually sanctioned illusion we share. I say this even though I still long for many things in my life and the world to be different. The shift is that I no longer treat lack as a problem to be solved. I no longer draw conclusions about who I am from it, or mistake it for a compass pointing me home. Only home knows the way home.
This guided practice is not polished or scripted—it’s raw. It’s something I do every day in my own life. It speaks directly to a deeper truth: that enoughness is already here, and the ache of separation can dissolve in the simple felt sense of Being.
Because that’s what lack does, more efficiently than almost any other emotion: it divides us into “me” and what I am missing, breeding a lifelong sense of inadequacy, fear, and limitation.
So let’s dive in—as if we have not a moment to lose. I’ll meet you there.
With care,
Sez
