Studio behind-the-scenes
My most revealing letter? Let's talk...
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Written while playing Andalucia by John Cale, a good listen for when you’re reading it, too.
These are the first Studio Notes for Regarding Dew. This might be my most revealing letter yet because it’s both personally vulnerable and articulates the processes and structure of the studio.
If you have followed Regarding Dew for a long time, whether in receiving the letters or participating in offerings, you will enjoy what is contained here and it will provide deeper context for the studio’s offerings.
If you are building your own business or trying to carve your own path or even dappling with the idea, this letter will offer many insights and hopefully some gentle encouragement.
Because of the vulnerable nature of this letter, it is reserved for paid-readers of the Regarding Dew letters (who then gain access to Gentle Musings, long-form writings… this!).
And if this letter means something to you, please give it a heart at the top to let me know and others know <3 Thank you for being here xoxo
So we’re sitting together over strong afternoon coffee, fresh from the Moka pot and cradled in metallic green cups from Rome.
A snap and the season has shifted. We remark on the sensation of sipping hot coffee as the breeze from the window dances in... it’s been a minute.
We’re sharing laughs and lean-ins and head nods and sighs of exasperation.
We’re sharing long pauses of silence for the shared presence of connection, grief, fear of the future, how it feels to try to digest the fullness of daily life, and what it means to be in the world, really in it, at this time.
And then maybe there’s some Amaro swirled in! It’s the afternoon, after all. Maybe warm banana bread is sliced (maybe it’s the only thing we had ingredients ready for).
As the conversation weaves, you ask about what’s going on with Regarding Dew. And I take a long inhale to try to source the words.
How can there be so much clarity and cloudiness at the same time? I notice a small constriction in the direct center of my stomach—a fear of taking up space.
In trying to distill my process and words (summarize honey!!), I meet my fear of talking too much.
In feeling deeply rooted in self-trust, even with uncertainty, when it was such a point of struggle for so many years, I notice some relief. But there’s also a slight thread of shame still buried in there.
Shame for practicing wholeness? Maybe it’s a kind of loneliness… I try to locate it in my body. Moving out of accordance with a culture of not-enoughness, marked by constant striving and consumption, brings some tightness to the arms. Embodying joy, a true and quiet joy, when there is so much suffering all around… there’s that slight shame.
And I look into your eyes and remember how you have expressed the same cycles of conflicting and complimentary sensations. I remember that these reckonings are both individual and shared.
We all try to fight for our joy and fulfillment, and how easy it is to feel guilty in showing it… for finally feeling it and trying to hold onto it.
And so with a deep inhale, feet held by the floor and coffee coursing through my soon to be animated hands, I share something like this:
Regarding Dew is transforming into something sweeter, richer, and truer to its desired expression… and I’m trying to remember not to hold my breath through the initiation.