Safe Enough: Is Safe Space Really Possible?
There are times when the words “safe space” can feel distant—like an ideal that exists for others, but not always for us.
Sometimes the work isn’t about being completely safe, but about feeling safe enough—safe enough to breathe. To show up. To stay—even for just a little while.
Feeling safe enough is its own sacred threshold. It doesn’t require perfection. It simply invites you into the possibility that you don’t have to guard yourself in this moment.
What Does It Mean to Feel Safe Enough?
To feel safe enough is to feel:
Rooted in your body, even if you’re still healing
Welcomed in a space, even if the world has often told you to shrink
Held by something greater, even if you still have doubts
It is not the absence of fear—but the presence of self-permission.
For those of us who carry generational trauma, lived experience, or the constant hum of hypervigilance, safety is not always our default—it’s something we cultivate with care, tenderness, prayer, and practice.
When Space Feels Safe Enough
Creating space that feels safe enough says:
I am allowed to be
I am allowed to rest
I am allowed to unfold
When you feel safe enough to take up space, to pause, to weep, to wonder—that is sacred. That is healing. That is sacred living.
Spiritual Practices to Cultivate Safety
These small, intentional practices were crafted to support both your spiritual well-being and your nervous system:
1. Grounding in the Body
Place your hand over your heart. Breathe deeply. Whisper: I am safe enough to be here now.
2. Boundaries as a Sacred Structure
Give yourself permission to say no, to take space, to choose peace. Boundaries are the scaffolding where safety begins to grow. Boundaries are not restrictions—they’re reminders of your worth.
3. Beauty as a Signal of Belonging
Surround yourself with objects, scents, textures, and reminders that you belong—to yourself, to this moment, and to something greater.
4. Reclamation through Quiet and Stillness
Let lighting a candle, drinking tea, or wrapping yourself in a blanket be a quiet act of reclamation. Let it say: This moment is safe for me. I am safe here.
A Reflection on Safety and Enoughness
You may not always feel completely safe. But you can begin to notice when you feel:
A little less guarded
A little more at home
A little more like yourself
That’s the opening. That’s where the sacred slips in. That’s where safety begins—not in certainty, but in enoughness.
A Prayer for Safe Enough
God of shelter,
Be my refuge when the world feels sharp.
Be my warmth when I am weary.
Be the breath in my belly that says:
You are not alone.
Amen.
Uncovering the Emotional and Spiritual Aspects of Money
Money is more than numbers and spreadsheets—it’s a mirror. A reflection of our stories, our experiences, and the systems we move through. It can be emotional. A tool. And it’s deeply spiritual.
When we begin to explore money through a spiritual lens, something shifts. It stops being just about consumption, accumulation or survival. It becomes a relationship. A mirror. A teacher.
Money and Emotions
Many of the financial decisions we make are shaped not just by logic, but by emotion—by our hopes, fears, dreams, desires, and beliefs.
Did money feel safe growing up? Was it a source of stress or shame? Did you witness struggle, sacrifice, silence—or abundance?
Oftentimes we carry unspoken stories around money. And those stories don’t stay in the past—they live in our spending habits, our earning patterns, our boundaries (or lack thereof). They show up in how we give, how we ask, and how we hold onto (or push away) money.
Research consistently shows that financial decisions are largely driven by emotion rather than pure logic. Psychologist Daniel Kahneman, known for his work in behavioral economics, suggests that up to 90% of financial choices are influenced by emotion, with only about 10% based on rational thinking. This emotional dominance can lead to avoidance, overspending, or financial paralysis—behaviors often rooted in fear, scarcity, or unresolved money narratives.¹
The concept of the pain of paying helps illustrate this. It refers to the emotional discomfort we experience when parting with money. This discomfort can vary depending on how we pay: for example, research shows that credit card payments tend to feel less painful than cash, which can unconsciously lead to higher spending.²
Financial stress also deeply impacts mental and emotional health. Studies have found that financial anxiety can reduce a sense of control, increase psychological distress, and diminish overall well-being.³ Our emotional and financial lives are intimately connected.
Recognizing and addressing these emotional imprints is a crucial step toward financial healing. By acknowledging the feelings and beliefs that shape our financial behaviors, we can begin to shift from reactive patterns to more mindful, intentional decisions—ones that reflect who we truly are and what we truly value.
Money as a Tool
At its most basic, money is a tool for exchange. But it’s also a kind of flow—one that moves through our lives, shaped by our choices, desires, and beliefs. It reflects where our energy goes, what we value, and what we believe we’re worthy of.
When we see money as flow—not just something to manage, but something to be in relationship with—we begin to ask new, deeper questions:
Where is my money moving too freely, and where is it getting stuck?
Am I holding on out of fear, or spending to fill a void?
Does this exchange feel nourishing, depleting, or aligned?
These questions help us shift from control to connection. They invite us to listen—to the deeper wisdom our money patterns are trying to reveal.
The Spiritual Aspects of Money
What if money isn’t just a tool, but a teacher?
What if the way we earn, give, invest, and circulate money is a spiritual practice—a reflection of our values, our boundaries, our sense of trust, and our beliefs about what’s possible?
When we begin to see money through a spiritual lens, it becomes less about transactions and more about transformation. It’s not just how we use money—but who we are becoming in the process.
Every exchange holds an invitation:
To check in with our integrity.
To move from fear to trust.
To ask if what we’re choosing aligns with our deepest truth.
Money can reveal where we feel safe—and where we don't.
It can reflect our relationship with worthiness, freedom, responsibility, and surrender.
When we pause and reflect before spending, when we give generously without depletion, when we honor our boundaries, and when we receive with openness—we are engaging in deeply spiritual acts. Acts that connect us back to God, to ourselves, and to one another.
To tend to our financial lives with care and clarity is not separate from our spiritual path—it is a part of the path. A path of discernment. Of remembering. Of returning.
Practices to Explore
1. Money Journaling
Reflect on your earliest money memory. What emotions are tied to it?
How might that story still be shaping your relationship with money today?
2. Flow Check-In
Before making a purchase, pause and ask: Does this align with who I’m becoming—or who I desire to be?
3. Spiritual Circulation
Choose one way to give this month—intentionally, joyfully, prayerfully. Let it be an act of love, not obligation.
Exploring the spiritual, emotional, and flowing aspects of money isn’t about getting it perfect—it’s about being present. It’s about listening closely to your own financial story, rewriting what no longer serves, and aligning your money with the life you’re being called to live.
May your relationship with money be one of healing, wholeness, and holy possibility.
Sources:
City National Bank, Barit Essler
The Listening Walk: A Practice for Welcoming Spring
Spring is the season of emergence
Of soft beginnings and quiet courage
It is the in-between—the thaw after the freeze, the seed before the bloom.
After months of inward reflection, we begin to stretch again. We return to the body, the soil, the light. But this return is not rushed—it’s rhythmic. Intentional. Spiritual.
In spring, we’re invited to listen. To reawaken slowly. To notice where new life is already stirring—within and around us.
A Practice for Spring: “The Listening Walk”
This simple practice is an invitation to reconnect—with yourself, with Spirit, and with the rhythms of the earth waking up again.
Set your intention. Before stepping outside, take a breath and ask: What am I listening for today? What might God be inviting me into in this season?
Walk slowly. No destination needed. Let your body find its own rhythm. Let your senses lead you.
Notice what’s waking up. New shoots, birdsong, the warmth of sun on your skin. Allow nature to speak to you.
Listen inward. What is beginning to grow within you? What longings are beginning to stir? What are you noticing?
Close with stillness. Pause for a few moments before returning indoors. Give thanks. Let your breath be a prayer.
Spring is a season of possibility
May you move gently
May you plant with intention
And may you remember that becoming is allowed to be slow
A Prayer for Spring: Embracing the Sacred Rhythms of Renewal
As the season shifts, we’re invited to slow down, soften, and listen. Spring is not only a change in the earth—it’s an invitation to return to what is stirring quietly within us.
The Invitation of Spring
In our fast-paced world, it’s easy to meet new seasons with urgency. We often feel the pressure to bloom before we’re ready, to produce before we’ve planted, to force forward motion rather than follow the gentle cues of the soul.
But what if spring is not a demand—but a whisper?
What if spring invites us not to do more, but to become more deeply rooted in who we already are?
Moving with the rhythms of nature, not against them. Trusting the process of becoming. Surrendering to the pace of the Spirit.
A Prayer for Spring
Take a breath. Let this prayer be a pause—a prayerful practice to return you to yourself, your body, and the God who holds all things in tenderness and time.
A Prayer for Spring
Dear God,
As the earth softens and the light grows longer,
Help me soften, too.
Help me meet this season not with urgency, but with openness and ease.
Let what has been dormant in me begin to stir again—gently, in your timing.
May I make space for new life without forcing.
May I trust the slow, sacred pace of becoming.
Reveal to me what’s ready to emerge.
Clear what no longer serves.
And root me in rhythms that nourish what is real and good and holy in me.
Amen.
Living the Prayer: Spiritual Practices for Spring
If this prayer resonates, consider weaving it into your daily or weekly rhythm as part of your prayer and practice routine. You might:
Read the prayer aloud during your morning practice
Journal what feels ready to emerge in your life
Spend time outdoors, noticing signs of new life
Remember: spirituality is not a destination. It is a daily return. A coming home. A softening.
Just as the earth knows when to rest and when to rise, so do we. May this spring be a time of gentle emergence, sacred remembering, and deep spiritual renewal.
Let this be your invitation to slow down, root deeply, and move forward—not in urgency, but in trust.