You Are Not Alone.

Hello my sweet friends.

How are you? I’m not going to lie, this has been a challenging season. I am emerging from hibernation, or what feels like multiple cycles of hibernation that have rolled over each other likes waves on the shore. But in these cycles of challenge and loss, I keep coming back to some universal truths. We can love. We can find solace in each other, because we are indeed, not alone.

In my eternal search for connection and community, I am turning again to my small corner of YouTube. I am returning to this space, my letters to you. And as Substack is ever evolving in its quest for more eyeballs, I will be experimenting with posting my mini films directly here as well.

If you prefer to watch & subscribe over on YouTube directly, here is that link:

Slow Living for Difficult Times

Otherwise, rest easy. I will be here for you as well, whether you are reading in your
e-mail or on the Substack app.

I truly want to know how you are doing. Drop me a line or leave a comment, and I will answer you. I can’t offer much, but I am here for connection, if only to remind you that you are loved, and you are not alone.

Love,

Kristina

ps— scroll down for a transcript to the mini film, if you prefer reading to watching / listening.

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Minifilm Transcript:

There are some seasons in life that are harder than others. We can feel afraid, frustrated, angry, or disappointed. We can feel utterly despondent and alone.

However, my sweet friends, we are not alone. As long as there are people in this world who also believe in kindness and love, we can never be alone.

These heavy emotions take a toll on our delicate nervous systems. If you are like me at all, you might sometimes have difficulty grounding yourself, calming your body’s stress response to personal trauma or distressing world events.

This is when we remember to breathe. We take a long slow inhale, and we hold. We let out our breath, exhaling all of the stress and frustration. We do it again. We do this over and over, reminding ourselves that we exist, here, in the present moment. We do not belong to the past, nor can we belong to a time that has not yet come to be. We breathe, so that we can see.

When we feel present in our bodies again, we have a chance to turn our attention to activities that will continue to soothe and heal. Small tasks around the home and the garden are some of my favorites to feel rooted and strong again. I make jam, I bake bread. I pick flowers and arrange them just so. I rearrange furniture, clearing out old stagnant energy and making space for new ideas and fresh purpose. I turn to handcrafts like knitting or sewing. I take the children on long but easy hikes, so that we might meander without pressure. I sit in a pile of cookbooks and fantasize about what special dishes I can make for the ones I love. Maybe I will even cook a complex dish that I have a particular fondness for, one that I don’t make often because it feels too indulgent or too time consuming. This is just such a time for a small bit of self-soothing permissiveness.

Sometimes these “productive” activities are still too much. This is when I know I need to slow down even further, pull back from anything that might stir up a panic again. I go back to my favorite books, or pick a new one from the library that promises to whisk me away from the time I live in. I brew a pot of tea, I curl up on the sofa, and nestle myself into a cocoon of pillows and blankets. Reading was my first love, and it is the surest path to emotional and physical regulation when everything just feels out of sorts.

The point is, we must find a way to rest and ground ourselves once again. Perhaps it feels self-indulgent, taking time away from the problems and issues at hand so that we can spend time on ourselves. Perhaps we still burn with a fury of rage and disbelief, making it difficult to slow down.

Unfortunately, we cannot go into battle, or come up with creative solutions to the problems we face, unless we are fully resourced. When we are stuck, in fight / flight / freeze, our brains are not biologically capable of thinking critically or creatively. So rest we must.

Now. Once we have steadied our breath, felt the strength of the earth creep back into our limbs, we can begin the work that lies ahead. In such times of rancor and discord, many will loudly offer solutions, paths that seem the best possible to take. They will speak with conviction and persuasion.

Whether the issue is as small as interfamily conflict or as large as the political landscape of the globe and crushing economic systems that leave billions of people in a state of desperate struggle, it is important to remember your own conscience. Your own unique gifts and knowledge. Others will point the finger, blame everyone and everything but themselves, but you will not do this. You will remember the power of small acts. You will remember the effect your smile has on the others in your orbit. You will not dwell in the past mistakes we have individually and collectively made; rather, you will learn from them and move forward today knowing that there is only one choice.

We move forward with our shared values of kindness, courage, and love. We move forward with an eye to service without self-abandonment. We seek the opportunities that spring up like blossoms of clover after a cool shower. The opportunities to make choices for not just the good of ourselves, but the good of all. The opportunities to slow down, take note of the world, listen to our hearts, and act from a place of grace, and love.

When we feel like the world has become too large again, too hard and terrifying, we are allowed to retreat. We are allowed to step back, come back to the breath, root into the activities that bring us peace, and then re-emerge into the work we were born to do. We can remind others, through our words and our actions, that they are not alone. You, my sweet friend, are not alone.