Healing Outside: A Journey of Presence

Healing Outside: Quiet Steps Toward Presence

Pause with me a moment, here at the threshold…

I used to think healing was quiet.
Something that belonged to the pages of my journal,
the hush of my bedroom,
the places no one else could see.

But now—
I feel it in the way my shoulders stay soft
when a stranger brushes past me on the street.
I feel it in the space between stimulus and response,
where I pause,
breathe,
and choose.

“I don’t gather in the noise.
I grow in stillness,
in spaces where presence has room to breathe.“

Healing feels like sunlight warming my skin,
and realizing I’m no longer flinching at the brightness.
Like sitting alone with a coffee,
no phone to shield me,
and feeling no need to apologize for existing.

It’s the quiet smile that rises unforced—
not because I want to be liked,
but because the weight on my chest has softened.

“Healing isn’t just what happens in the cocoon.
It’s the tender unfurling of wings
in the unpredictable winds of the world.”

It’s the softness in my step,
the steadiness in my gaze,
the way the world no longer feels like an enemy to be braved,
but a field of possibility to be entered gently.

This is how I measure my growth:
barefoot on the earth,
breathing fully,
meeting the world as I am—
quietly alive.
This is the sacred work,
taken outside.

Where are you noticing your own healing beyond the walls of safety?

In Tenderness

Ashé | Being Human