From Holding Space to Creating Permission
Intro
Lunar Lotus Retreats didn’t arrive fully formed. It unfolded slowly, unevenly, and through lived experience.
What began as in-person gatherings centered on healing and reflection eventually distilled into something quieter, more accessible, and more sustainable. Not because the vision disappeared, but because life asked for honesty about limits, capacity, and care.
This is the story behind Lunar Lotus as it exists today, and how the Oracle Deck came to be not as a pivot, but as a natural consequence of learning to include myself in the circle of care.
The deck didn’t come from inspiration. It came from lived experience, survival, and earned gentleness.
The Early Days: Creating Space to Slow Down
Lunar Lotus began in 2016 with a small women’s retreat held in Yucca Valley, California. At the time, I was deeply interested in creating spaces where women could slow down, reflect, and reconnect with their inner worth without needing to perform wellness or prove anything about themselves.
That first retreat focused on self-love, empowerment, and reconnection through gentle practices like meditation, movement, and time in nature. It was meaningful and well received, even though I didn’t yet understand the financial realities of hosting events. What it gave me instead was clarity: when people are offered permission to soften and be witnessed, something real opens up.
That seed stayed with me, even during years when Lunar Lotus wasn’t visible from the outside.
I didn’t stop because the vision disappeared. I stopped because I was trying to survive.
The Years In Between: Survival, Work, and Quiet Holding
After that first retreat, life became heavy. I was working long hours, navigating financial strain, and trying to survive an unhealthy relationship. There were years where Lunar Lotus existed more as an inner compass than an outward project.
I still showed up where I could. Through collaboration, education, self-defense work, advocacy for survivors, photography projects, and community events that didn’t always carry the Lunar Lotus name, but carried its heart. Much of this work happened without visibility, consistency, or stability.
There were also long stretches of exhaustion, burnout, and soul-weariness. I didn’t disappear because I stopped caring. I disappeared because my body and nervous system could no longer carry the weight of holding space for others without support.
Burnout taught me about limits in a way no workshop ever could.
Covid and the Shift Toward Accessibility
After Covid, gathering in person became harder on every level. People were more cautious, more tired, and often overwhelmed. I noticed a deep need for support that didn’t require scheduling, energy, or emotional readiness.
At the same time, I was coming to terms with my own limits. Healing, I realized, doesn’t only happen in curated retreat spaces. Often it happens quietly, at home, on uneven ground, and in moments where someone simply needs permission to pause.
That understanding reshaped how I thought about support. It didn’t need to be structured to be real. It needed to be accessible, flexible, and kind to people’s actual lives.
Healing doesn’t always happen in retreat settings. Sometimes it happens at the kitchen table.
Burnout, Sensitivity, and Redefining Capacity
Moving through burnout and health challenges changed how I understood capacity. As someone who is sensitive and neurodivergent, I became deeply aware of how many wellness tools assume high energy, focus, and consistency.
I wanted to create something that didn’t demand resilience, productivity, or readiness. Something that could meet someone on their hardest days, not just their motivated ones. Something that respected nervous systems instead of pushing past them.
That desire became the foundation for what came next.
Gentleness isn’t a lack of effort. It’s wisdom earned the hard way.
The Oracle Deck: Permission Slips Made Tangible
The Lunar Lotus Oracle Deck didn’t come from theory or abstraction. Every card grew out of lived experience, from childhood through adulthood. From moments where I realized how often I had overridden my own needs because no one had given me permission to slow down, rest, or trust myself.
As I created the deck, I noticed many of the messages were things I had needed to hear at different points in my life. Permissions I never received. Reminders I learned the hard way. Compassion I had to offer myself when no one else could.
In that sense, the deck began as something I was giving to myself. Over time, it became something I felt ready to share with others.
Each card is meant to act as a pause. Not an answer. Not an instruction. Just space.
What started as permission slips for myself became something I could offer to others.
Watching the Work Live Quietly in the World
One of the most meaningful parts of this journey has been seeing how people use the deck. Not aspirationally, but practically. On desks. In therapy offices. During life transitions. In moments of overwhelm when slowing down feels necessary but hard.
When people tell me the deck helps them feel less alone or more trusting of their own inner voice, I know it’s doing what it was meant to do.
The goal was never transformation. It was steadiness.
Carrying This Forward
As Lunar Lotus continues to evolve, what matters most to me is integrity. Creating tools that respect people’s limits, including my own. Building something sustainable not through doing more, but through doing what is honest and aligned.
Lunar Lotus is no longer just about hosting or holding space in the traditional sense. It’s about creating something that can hold space without depleting the person behind it.
If this work offers calm, permission, and self-trust, then it’s doing exactly what it’s meant to do.
I didn’t stop helping others. I finally included myself in the circle of care.
