The smallest worries—those barely-there pebbles—can gather, snowballing into dense knots that spread throughout your body. A quiet resistance, subtle yet consuming.
I’ve experienced it. The “little things” are always subjective—what quietly disturbed me this time was something as seemingly simple as paying a bill. The money was there. That wasn’t the issue. But I’d delayed it anyway, not out of necessity, but because I was living from a mindset of scarcity. I was hoarding energy, hoarding action, as if doing nothing might protect me from losing something.
I cherish the frequency of abundance—it’s where I thrive. Yet somehow, the putting off shifted the current. Suddenly, I was vibrating at the frequency of scarcity. Instead of meeting those emotions in honest conversation, I ignored them. I reached outward, desperate for relief from the pressure of feelings I didn’t want to feel.
Then, came the congestion. A spiritual traffic jam. My emotions, messengers that they are, kept knocking. Still, I shut the door. Confusion crept in. Then uncertainty. Then bitterness, which bled into blame—projected onto everything around me.
“I don’t like this.”
“I don’t like that.”
Eventually, after trying to “nap the emotions away” I cracked open. My body ached so much that I couldn’t even sleep. I let go. I surrendered. Just 20 minutes, I told myself—20 minutes to be still, feel, and focus on the breath.
Sitting up, I closed my eyes. I breathed deeply. Inhaling and exhaling out my mouth. ramping up my energy all while greeting my emotions like old friends at the door.
“What do you need?” I asked them.
They replied with quiet wisdom:
“Let go. Submit. Do what you need to do. Take care of what you are putting off.”
I popped my eyes open, and a sensation of clarity washed over me. It was time to take care of the little thing. I peeled open my laptop, pulled up the page to pay—and paused. It had already been taken care of. In disbelief, I scanned the page again. Still done. I was shocked. Somehow, while I’d been tangled in resistance, it had resolved itself quietly in the background.
The universe is nothing short of mystical. In that, perhaps I'd already paid (which I don't recall), or a miracle actually happened. The point is that when we surrender—not in defeat, but in grace—miracles spill in. I showed up for myself, finally, after a day of dancing with delay. And in that showing up, I found resolve.
In fact, the leaning in is a sign of faith. My emotions had been my guides all along. After such a long, intense day, I put myself to bed early. Because that, too, was the action that I needed to take in order to honor the weariness my body experienced from allowing these emotions to linger so long.
⸻
Reflection:
What small things have you been avoiding?
What act of care is waiting for you?
When you act on faith—the kind that whispers “you’re held”—the universe rises to meet you. Sometimes, it even nudges you to believe in yourself just a little more.
Our emotions are teachers. They ask questions only we can answer. The answers don’t live outside of us. They live within. And the more you outsource your power, the more resistance you may meet. But when you come home to yourself that’s where everything begins to loosen, the answers come to you, and miracles happen as a product to your surrendering.
