Nothing in nature hides what it is

✨ Welcome to Tiny Teachings, a twice-monthly newsletter where I share a letter to my daughters about living intentionally in transitional times + a roundup with inspiration and ideas to try.

This month’s letter reflects on finding the courage to step out and share who we are - even when it’s scary.

May letter, 2025

Dear girls,

There are so many things I want to tell you about at the moment. I'm in one of those phases of life where everything is evolving so fast it feels like a thousand flowers are blooming at once. It is a beautiful experience - a time of growth! But I'm also reminded that it takes energy to grow. The competing demands from my material life- work, home, and everything- are harder to juggle when so much energy is required to reconcile all the new insights and changes happening within.

I don't feel like the same person I was a few years ago. I say that entirely without drama. It is a quiet truth. And I say this, having gone through years of feeling incredibly stagnated in the past. The difference is palpable.

With these changes, I feel the pull towards expressing a more authentic me. Authenticity is a word I don't particularly like (having become deadened with overuse), but I keep thinking about it lately. It's a word that comes up every time I go to publish one of these letters, willing and willing myself to hit publish despite a tide of resistance urging me to keep this part of myself hidden and safe. Through sharing these letters, I have experienced the fear of stepping out and saying, “This is who I am” as an energy so dense and tangible that it feels like a physical person I'm wrestling with. Each time I press publish, I cast a vote for my own authenticity and work hard to release the fear of truly being known and seen.

It's interesting what comes up for me in these moments: maybe because of my letters, my friends and colleagues will think differently about me, maybe because of my letters, no-one will want to employ me, maybe because of my letters, I'll open myself up to criticism and shame. Ultimately, I'm saying to myself, maybe, if I show who I am, I'll be rejected. I've been walking to this edge every fortnight since January, and I'm yet to find it easy. I take solace in reminding myself that I’ve come to the point in my life where my desire to be fully who I am is greater than my fear of rejection. I don’t want to wear masks or live a divided life.

The truth is that these letters have not drawn critics closer to me, but new friends. I have discovered that writing in the open offers a shortcut to connection. These letters invite me to be known in new ways by new (and old) people in my life. For that, I'm grateful.

Like so many things in life, it is a journey of remembering. And, as I often reflect in these letters, you girls already have what I seek! You are not divided people - children aren't. What is on the inside and outside of you is the same - there is no pretence, no internal governor directing your next move. Yet, when you express an emotion - a rage, a consuming sadness, even a squealing joy - I see how hard it is for us adults to fully allow it. We are deeply conditioned to quiet things down, remember manners, not sit with the emotion, and not disturb other people. I'm sorry for my part in this.

All parents will observe their children's loss of innocence as they grow up, as they become aware of the realities of life and experience a division between inner and outer. Is this truly a necessary requirement of coming of age? Can we not initiate our children into adulthood and society without separating them from themselves? Indigenous communities have been practising this for many years, with their emphasis on finding their true place of belonging within the community through rites of passage, but we have lost these ways in the West.

I remember the pain of my mother's repeated words to me: "Where has that lovely little girl gone?" as I transitioned from a child to a young person struggling with the changing realities and expectations of early adulthood. All I desperately wanted to say to her was, "I'm in here".

Ultimately, isn't that what all of us want and deserve to have? To be seen and heard for who we truly are "in here".

Always give yourself permission to be who you are "in here" even "out there" - no matter how scary it may feel. Nothing in nature hides what it is, and neither should you.

Love, Mama