Extra•Ordinary ~ The Light Finds You Here
The wisdom of choosing tenderness in a chaotic world.
I’ve been revisiting a sentiment in one of my favorite quotes by the 13th-century poet and scholar Rumi that resonates deeply and profoundly. It feels like a golden thread I want to stitch into my heart. The message distills so much of how I try to move through life, especially in the chaos of our current times.
When I sit with its meaning, it feels… true, personally and collectively.
“I said: What about my eyes? He said: Keep them on the road.
I said: What about my passion? He said: Keep it burning.
I said: What about my heart? He said: Tell me what you hold inside it?
I said: Pain and sorrow. He said: Stay with it. The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”
~ Rumi
I can feel the residue of this idea covering my whole being like a shimmering field of possibility. Transcending what ails us is necessary, for sure, but more importantly, learning to integrate and embody the full range of our human experience is what’s at stake. That’s the work… and the invitation.
This is our golden ticket to growth. To real evolution. It’s a gift, wrapped in the most achingly beautiful truth: we’re fragile, fleeting creatures. And because of that, every moment of awareness, every act of tenderness, becomes sacred.
Lately, I’ve been finding it harder to exist within the current iteration of this world; the construct of society feels bloated, and the dystopian state of unrest around us is overwhelming. I do my best to divorce myself from the media hype machine and its appetite for instilling fear. Our brains aren’t meant to be able to consume and process the constant barrage of provocation.
Make no mistake, that’s exactly what they’re hoping for: a confused, divided, and compliant public. That truth makes my stomach turn.
As a personal antidote, I keep turning toward my community circles. These are the spaces where I can connect, where my voice matters, where impact feels possible. I feel most alive surrounded by open-hearted people who are waking up to the urgency of this moment. Together, we are remembering that the consumptive, entertainment-driven society around us is a mirage.
We are stronger together, working on breaking the patterns of accepting the inflated and false narratives that are making us spiritually sick.
This is how I’ve been integrating Rumi’s wisdom into my life:
Keeping my eyes on the road
When the world feels like it’s on fire, his words remind me to return to my own path. To resist the urge to rubberneck at every crisis and instead stay focused on what I’m building. On what is real, what is just, what is mine to tend. This is a devotion to presence. To direction. To purpose.
Stoking the fire of passion
I’ve learned that it doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it flickers. Sometimes it smolders beneath the surface, waiting for breath and space. I’m learning not to chase the blaze, but to tend the ember. To keep it warm with meaningful work, with connection, with beauty, with rest.
Contemplating what lives in the heart
Beyond the curated responses or surface-level feelings, I’m prioritizing time to examine the raw and honest contents of this wild, tender space. There is grief there. And hope. There is also quiet courage and a deep desire for a gentler world. I’m learning to meet my heart with curiosity. To speak to it with reverence.
Allowing the Light to enter
Pain and joy are two sides of the same coin. Without one, the other remains out of reach. I used to run from discomfort, numb it, disguise it in busyness. But staying with it has taught me something sacred: the ache carves space for something new. When I stop bracing against it, I find a strange kind of grace. The Light doesn’t rush in… it seeps, it hums, it makes us luminous.
As a result of this re-negotiation, my practices have deepened. They’ve become devotional rituals. Sacred pauses. Each one a place of nurture and comfort. A place of rest.
And so I keep returning. To the quiet choices that have become a kind of sustenance for my weary soul.
If you’re feeling disoriented in these times, I hope this reminds you that you don’t have to numb or hustle or hide. You can root into what is real.
The Light will meet you there.
With tenderness and trust,
(((tina d.)))
Practice
Breath Practice: Tending the Ember
This simple breath practice is designed to help you reconnect with yourself, especially when the noise outside feels too loud and the fire within feels faint.
Find a quiet space. Sit or lie down comfortably.
Breathe in slowly through your nose for a count of four.
Hold gently at the top for a count of four.
Exhale softly through your mouth for a count of six.
Pause for a moment at the bottom.
Repeat for five rounds, or as long as it takes to feel a softening. As you breathe, imagine the breath feeding the small ember at your center. Not a blaze. Just a steady, luminous glow.
Journal Prompt
What part of me is quietly asking to be honored today?
Let your answer rise without rushing.
Perspective
In the spirit of highlighting other fantastic voices on Substack, I’ve been enjoying the work of Lisa Anderson Shaffer. Her writing is thoughtful, articulate, and full of fresh perspectives. Her most recent newsletter includes one of the clearest, most insightful breakdowns of the creative process I’ve come across. I highly recommend checking out her publication.
Power Statement
I keep my eyes on the road. I tend to the ember of what matters. I stay with what is true. The Light finds me here.
Parting Pulse
I’ve started sharing a few parting reflections at the end of teaching my weekly breathwork + deep rest class. Before class, I take five minutes to free-write on a word or idea, often inspired by the season, recent conversations, or the times we’re living in. It’s a small offering of insight and inspiration for the week ahead.
You can now find these posted weekly on my website under the Small Moments section. I’m including some of my own photography with the posts, too. Enjoy!
Thank you, Tina,
This is exactly what needed today!