“Note that this journey is uniquely yours, no one else's. So the path has to be your own. You cannot imitate somebody else's journey and still be true to yourself. Are you prepared to honor your uniqueness in this way?”
― Jon Kabat-Zinn

During my trip to Madrid in the spring of 2025, I passed by a rose garden on one of my early morning walks.

One of the gifts of waking up early in a new city is the chance to meet it before the world arrives. The streets are not as crowded. Madrid, a late sleeper by nature, doesn’t fill with crowds until midday, so the mornings belong to those who wander.

I was especially elated to learn that the garden was open to the public for free. So I went in and out of curiosity, wandered around, and learned that it held nearly 30,000 varieties of roses.

Thirty thousand.

I stood there in awe, realizing how naïve I’d been to think of roses as one simple thing. I love them, I think they’re especially beautiful and fragile. But I had never truly noticed how different each one could be. I was mesmerized by the popping colors: Red, pink, ivory, yellow, and many more.

Nature, it turns out, does not repeat herself.

Just like those roses, you are not here to look like anyone else, live like anyone else, or bloom on someone else’s schedule. Your shape, your story, your timing, your way of unfolding, none of it is a mistake.

Biologically speaking, even the tiniest fraction of difference in our DNA is enough to make each of us entirely one of a kind. Humans share about 99.9% of the same genetic code, yet that remaining 0.1% accounts for all the variation we see: our features, our tendencies, our strengths, our sensitivities. In nature, diversity isn’t an accident. It’s what keeps life resilient. Gardens, forests, and ecosystems thrive because of their differences, not despite them.

Psychologists have found something similar in the human world. Research in positive psychology shows that people experience greater well-being when they live in ways that reflect their natural strengths, when they stop trying to be someone else and start growing as themselves.

So, I want to share this reminder with you.

You are as unique as those roses.
No matter what you think.
No matter what anyone says.

And perhaps the question for today is this:

What part of you is still waiting to bloom?

Among eight billion humans in this world, there is only one you. Own it.

May you bloom in your fullest.

With love,

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I’ve been reflecting on how deeply the belief of not being enough can influence the choices we make and the spaces we occupy.

It shows up in the moments we hold our voices back when we long to speak.
In the relationships we stay in long after the people we gave our hearts to have stopped honoring us. Or in the ways we shrink ourselves, trying to be more pleasing, more accomplished, and more lovable.

Today on Finding Home, I’m sharing a short episode from my Dear Love Chronicles. These are a series of letters written from Love’s perspective, reminders meant to help us return to the truth of who we are beneath the noise of comparison, perfectionism, and self-doubt.

This particular letter speaks to the ache of not feeling enough and offers an alternative, that nothing about your worth has ever been missing.

If you’ve been questioning yourself lately, feeling behind, unseen, or unsure of your value, I hope this episode assures you that you are already enough.

🎧 Listen to the episode:

📖 Read the letter:

If it resonates, consider sharing it with a woman in your life who may be carrying this invisible weight. Sometimes a gentle reminder can open the door back to self-trust.

With love,

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This episode is part of the Dear Love Chronicles, a series of letters written from Love’s perspective. Through this letter, Love offers a reminder for those moments when self-doubt takes over: your worth has never been up for debate. You don’t need to earn it, prove it, or measure yourself against anyone else.

If you’ve been questioning your value, feeling behind, or struggling to see yourself clearly, may this letter from Love meet you gently and remind you of what has always been true: you are already enough, just as you are.

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Connect With Frances:

• Website: www.franceslacuesta.com

• Substack: franceslacuesta.substack.com

• Instagram: @frances.lacuesta

What I know about love is that I don’t really know much more now, at 46, than when I was five or seven, when my mother left for the Middle East to work, so she could send money to her five children.

What I knew about love then was that someone needed to make a sacrifice. And that sacrifice was a good thing, for the good of others.

What I know about love is a level of caring from my grandparents, who loved us, possibly more than they loved their own children.

What I knew about love was that someone was going to get hurt or broken, back when my heart and mind were too young to understand.

What I know about love is how bittersweet it is to love someone so deeply and realize that after saying yes or I do, it doesn’t always mean forever.

What I knew about love,or what I used to know, was that you say it with chocolates and flowers. But I was never really the chocolate-and-flower type of girl. Or at least I pretended not to be, because no one ever gave them to me.

What I know about love is that it’s painful when the one you love couldn’t return it.

Yet love is also exquisite and fulfilling and rapturous and exciting, especially in the moment when someone finally says, I love you.

What I know about love is the willingness to abandon an old life in search of a new one, to fight for a love I thought was real.

What I know about love is a 10,000-mile economy-class journey across the Atlantic, and a $1,500 one-way ticket for a brand-new life, and to win back an old love, or so I thought.

What I know about love is not just the agony and pain of heartbreak, but the ultimate sacrifice for the happiness of another.

For the love of a child who was never mine.

For wanting to save those who are suffering.

What I know about love is never giving up, even when in the muck, to rise up while feeling the despair and the darkness.

What I know about love is the unconditional love of family:

for a father who tried to be a better man,

and for a brother who has redeemed himself in my eyes.

What I know about love is the ability to forgive, to open my arms again and welcome whatever comes.

What I know about love is the continuous beating of my heart, pounding, blood rushing through my veins, telling me I’m alive.

What I know about love is the life it gives, the life and beauty it promises.

What I know about love is its power to reach deeply within me as I grow, slowly, inch by inch.

What I know about love is its power to change and move minds and hearts.

What I know about love is that I’ll never fail. I can learn to open my heart again and again and again, even when I stumble.

That’s the beauty of the mystery, one that will probably never be solved.

What I know about love is that it needs to be felt and experienced over and over again.

But even when I feel like I know so much, the truth is,

What I know about love is that I know nothing.

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A meditation on loving deeply, letting go, and discovering that even after all we’ve lived through, love remains a mystery we are always learning.

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Connect With Frances:

• Website: www.flourishingmindsco.com

• Substack: franceslacuesta.substack.com

• Instagram: @frances.lacuesta

Lately, I’ve been noticing how easily worry pulls us away from the present moment.

How caring deeply about our families, our choices, and our futures can turn into overthinking. How the mind drifts ahead, carrying conversations that haven’t happened yet, holding responsibilities that may not be ours alone.

Today on Finding Home, I’m sharing a short episode that’s part of my Dear Love Chronicles—a series of letters written from Love’s perspective, inspired by Elizabeth Gilbert’s Letters from Love.

This particular letter speaks gently to worry, overthinking, and the way our minds lean into the future. If you’ve been carrying a lot lately or finding it hard to stay grounded in the present, I hope this episode reminds you that you’re not alone, and you can come back to this moment.

🎧 Listen to the episode:

📖 Read the letter:

If it resonates, I’d love for you to share it with a woman in your life who cares deeply and could use a gentle pause.

With love,

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This episode was born from my own tendency to worry, to think ahead, to hold responsibility for the people I love, and to feel the weight of what might come next. If you’re someone who cares deeply, who overthinks because your heart is wide open, this letter is for you.

It’s a reminder to trust a little more and to come back to this moment. 

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Connect With Frances:

• Website: www.franceslacuesta.com

• Substack: franceslacuesta.substack.com

• Instagram: @frances.lacuesta

As I reflect on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, I find myself returning to the wisdom of Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hanh. In these challenging and unstable times, where we’re not only dealing with our personal issues but also societal ones like war, hunger, and natural disasters likely intensified by climate change, it's tempting to think, “That’s not my problem.” If it doesn’t impact us directly, why should we care, right?

Today, as we honor Dr. King, the leader of the American civil rights movement and a champion of the Beloved Community, it’s a good time to reconsider this mindset. Both Dr. King and Thich Nhat Hanh, affectionately known as Thay, believed deeply in peace, nonviolence, and the power of community.

They envisioned a world where kindness, compassion, and love prevail, even in the face of conflict. They rejected the idea of “every person for themselves” and instead embraced “every person for each other.” Together, they want to work towards ending hunger, poverty, climate change, and other societal issues. Their vision may seem idealistic, but it was rooted in their experiences of oppression and exile. They knew the pain of suffering yet held onto the hope of a better world.

I’ve come to understand the profound importance of being part of a community where I feel safe and nurtured. We are not here for ourselves alone; our purpose expands when we extend compassion, even when it’s difficult to relate. Compassion means acknowledging suffering—ours and others—and choosing to care.

It's ironic that in the U.S., we are ruled by a madman, surrounded by his group of cronies who are enabling him. His values starkly contrast with those of Dr. King and Thay. I won’t deny feeling a wave of existential rage.

Yet, in moments like these, I find solace in Thay’s response to Dr. King’s passing. Despite his despair, Thay vowed to build the Beloved Community through his teachings. He brought together people from all walks of life, imparting lessons on compassion, kindness, love, and the vital importance of community and interconnectedness.

As we honor Dr. King’s legacy, let’s remember that building a Beloved Community starts with each of us. We can embody his principles by fostering understanding, practicing kindness, and standing together against injustice. Whether through small acts of service, reaching out to those in need, or advocating for systemic change, each contribution helps create the compassionate world Dr. King envisioned.

A lot of work needs to be done, and I see this as an invitation for us to step up and do something kind for each other.

In hope for a Beloved Community,

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An invitation to listen, remember, and come home to yourself.

Read the poem here: https://franceslacuesta.substack.com/p/i-come-from

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• Website: www.franceslacuesta.com

• Substack: franceslacuesta.substack.com

• Instagram: @frances.lacuesta

I’m from a land colonized by Spain for 300 years,
where saints, priests, and Catholic schoolgirls are the norm.

I’m from an old man
whose blood, sweat, and tears
were poured into pieces of land
to feed his six children.

I’m from a strong matriarch
with a fast mouth, business acumen, and skills,
one who never says no—
and if she does,
would give them a piece of her mind.

I’m from days and nights
of beer bottles and coconut rum,
of muffled voices
in dark bedrooms.

I’m from silence
and quiet
and observation
in a world that doesn’t seem to know I exist.

I’m one of five siblings
with personalities so distinct
you can tell us apart.

I’m from a land of fairy tales
and Prince Charmings,
and mermaids
and paper dolls.

I’m from sun-filled afternoons,
running with neighborhood kids,
laughing, screaming, yelling,
playing like there’s no tomorrow.

I’m from big dreams
and mysticism
and witches
and fortunes.

I’m from ghosts
and half-horse, half-man creatures
that haunt and terrify me at night.

I’m from knee-deep water,
howling winds at night,
wondering what’s next for me.

I’m from love
and hopes
and dreams,
from caring deeply
and lovingly.

I’m from wanting to be noticed
and accepted,
of love lost
and found.

I’m from the sweet smell of dung
in the land my grandparents gave us.

I’m from frills
and joy
and hope
with friends from all over.

I’m from the most beautiful mother
whose mission in life
is to love us unconditionally.

I’m from makeshift swings
and snake juice
to remove pimples from my skin,
from raw eggs in milk
and ginger in my clothes
to ward off evil.

I’m from bringing flowers
and genuflecting
in seven churches
when Jesus dies on the Cross.

I’m from crossing straits
and oceans
to fight for love.

I’m from service
and generosity,
teaching the blind to love God,
from giving a lot of myself
for the good of others.

I’m from nuns
and priests
and churches,
from ashes on my forehead
to remind me
I will return to dust.

From humid days
to shortness of breath,
from families falling out
and back in.

I’m from miracles
and magic,
flying spoons and forks,
from elves and dwarves,
and dark
and light
energies.

From wishing
and dreaming
to places far and wide.

From coming home to myself—
far
and between.

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Someone dear to me, who is going through a painful chapter in her life, asked me recently,

“Why do we go through hard things?”

Her question stayed with me because I’ve asked it, too.

Maybe you have as well.

It’s not a question that begs for a quick fix or a tidy answer. It’s a question we live into.

One that echoes during seasons of heartbreak, illness, uncertainty, and loss.

And over time, I’ve learned:

We don’t always get to choose the hard things.

But we can choose how we meet them.

In This Episode:

In this week’s episode of Notes from the Tenderverse, I reflect on the deeply human experience of suffering and offer four anchors that have helped me through hard seasons:

Anchor 1: You Can Do Hard Things
You’ve already survived so much. You’re more resilient than you think.

Anchor 2: Suffering Is Part of Being Human
What if we stopped resisting the hard and welcomed it as part of our shared humanity?

Anchor 3: The Obstacle Is the Way
Growth doesn’t happen in spite of the pain, but often through it.

Anchor 4: Letting Go of the Second Arrow
We can’t always control what happens, but we can soften how we meet it.

Whether you’re navigating grief, change, or overwhelm, this episode is for you.

🎧 Listen Now

Or listen directly via Buzzsprout.

And if the episode brought you comfort or helped you feel less alone, please feel free to share it with a friend. Sometimes, a few gentle words at the right time can make all the difference.

With gratitude,

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I share four gentle anchors to hold onto when life feels overwhelming:

• You can do hard things

• Suffering is part of being human

• The obstacle is the way

• Meaning emerges slowly

💛 Take what you need. Leave what doesn’t serve. And may this episode offer a bit of light for your journey.

If it resonated, share it with someone who might need it too.

Send a text

Connect With Frances:

• Website: www.franceslacuesta.com

• Substack: franceslacuesta.substack.com

• Instagram: @frances.lacuesta

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how easy it is to lose sight of joy, especially in the world we’re living in now.

As humans, we tend to lean toward the negative. Psychologists call this the negativity bias or our natural tendency to remember what went wrong, what hurt, and what didn’t work out.

And with the news feeding us mostly grim updates, it’s easy to slip into that mindset.

I catch myself sometimes, saying things that lean toward the negative, or nodding in agreement when someone brings up how bad things are.

But truthfully, not everything is doom and gloom.

We forget that this world is also filled with so much good.
So many moments, encounters, and wonders that remind us life can be messy, but also beautiful.

This is one of my personal truths:

Despite the darkness, there is light.
Despite all that’s uncertain, there’s still wonder.

So how do we hold on to that truth?

Here are a few gentle anchors that help me, and maybe they’ll help you, too.

1. Nature Is a Haven for Inspiration

Someone once asked me where I get the ideas I share on my Substack and podcast.

The answer? Everywhere.

Ideas find me when I’m falling asleep, in the shower, while cooking, or walking.

But when I feel stuck or uninspired, I always return to nature.

I’m fortunate to live near the ocean and get to witness the sunrise almost every day.

I wake up early just to catch it, and sometimes with a small community that gathers on the beach to stretch at dawn.

Other days, I sit quietly, watching the sky turn from soft gray to gold. I say my prayers. I give thanks, and I feel nourished.

There’s growing evidence that being in nature can ease anxiety, mental fatigue, and stress.

If you can, step outside even for a few minutes.
Walk barefoot on the grass. Sit under a tree. Feel the sand on your feet.
If you don’t live near open spaces, tend to your houseplants, watch the clouds, or open your window and breathe deeply.

Nature reminds us that beauty is never far, if we choose to notice it.

2. Invite Awe and Wonder

Some of the most profound, heart-expanding moments we experience come through awe — that feeling that takes our breath away and reminds us of the mystery of being alive.

It can happen through art, story, music, nature, poetry, travel, or even a powerful speech or conversation.

It bypasses logic and goes straight to the soul.

There’s a word for that sensation — frisson, or aesthetic chills.
It’s that wave of goosebumps or shiver down the spine when something moves you deeply.

I experienced this in Córdoba, Spain, standing inside the Mosque-Cathedral.

Rows upon rows of red-and-white arches stretched endlessly, and light filtered through like something divine.

A shiver moved up my spine, and gratitude flooded my chest.

I thought of Alice Walker’s words in The Color Purple:

“I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it. People think pleasing God is all God cares about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back.”

That line always gets me. It was, I felt, God’s way of nudging me to stop and be enthralled by what’s around.

It’s a reminder that noticing beauty even in hard times is an act of reverence.

Every moment of awe is the universe saying,
“Look at all these beautiful things. They’re for you.

Take the time to notice.

3. Celebrate the Little Moments

We tend to reserve celebration for the big milestones like weddings, babies, graduations, and birthdays.

But joy also lives in the small, quiet moments that shape our days:

→ Waking up early to watch the sunrise.
→ Finally brewing that perfect cup of coffee.
→ Renewing your passport after months of putting it off.
→ Showing up for that dentist appointment you’ve been avoiding.
→ Finishing a book you’ve been reading forever.
→ Choosing to rest when your body asks for it.

These small acts matter. They are evidence of life being lived.

Neuroscience tells us that acknowledging small victories releases dopamine or our brain’s feel-good chemical.
It lifts our mood, builds resilience, and strengthens our sense of self.

When we celebrate micro-wins, we teach ourselves that life is happening, right here, right now.

So, what’s one small thing you can celebrate today?

4. See the Goodness in Others

This one can be hard, especially when we’re tired, cynical, or hurt.

But beneath the noise, most people are just trying their best, carrying what they know, what they’ve been given, and what they’ve survived.

Seeing the goodness in others doesn’t mean we excuse harm.
It means we choose to keep our hearts open in a world that often rewards defensiveness.

Look for micro-kindness everywhere:
The stranger who held the door.
The friend who checked in on you.
The driver who let you merge in traffic.

Be curious instead of judgmental.
Ask yourself, “What might this person be going through?”

And perhaps most importantly, extend that same kindness inward.

The way we treat others often mirrors how we treat ourselves.

A Closing Practice

Here’s a lovingkindness practice I go back to each time. You can do this in moments when you feel desolate or need some tending to.

If it feels safe, close your eyes for a moment.

Place your hand on your heart and say the words to yourself:

May I be happy.
May I be safe.
May I be healthy.
May I be at peace.
May I love, and may I be loved.

You may make your own statements or repeat them several times.

You may also want to send lovingkindness to someone you care for deeply, someone who is neutral, someone with whom you have an animosity, and finally extend love and kindness to everyone and the earth.

When you’re ready, open your eyes.

Final Thought

The world will always have its shadows.
But if we choose to notice the light, we begin to fall in love with life again and again.

With gratitude,

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If you’re in the Philippines, join me on November 29-30, 2025 for a two-day immersive workshop for women on embodying self-leadership.

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In this episode, I explore the deeply human experience of forgetting and remembering the beauty of being alive. From our innate negativity bias to the transformative power of awe, we reflect on how to stay open-hearted even when the world feels heavy.

If you’ve been feeling disconnected or dulled by life’s demands, this is an invitation to return to what matters.

In this episode, you’ll hear:

• Why our brains are wired to notice what’s wrong and how to shift toward what’s right

• How nature can help rekindle creativity, calm, and connection

• What aesthetic chills are and how awe can expand your sense of the sacred

• Why celebrating small daily victories can actually build resilience

• a lovingkindness practice to stay inspired and soften your view of others (and yourself).

📩 Let’s Connect

What’s one small thing you’re celebrating today?

I'd love to hear from you. Connect with me via the links below.

And if this episode offered you something meaningful, consider forwarding it to a friend who might need a lift today.

Send a text

Connect With Frances:

• Website: www.franceslacuesta.com

• Substack: franceslacuesta.substack.com

• Instagram: @frances.lacuesta

Dear Friend,

If the world has felt like too much lately…
If you’ve found yourself doomscrolling at midnight…
If you’ve caught yourself worrying about what the future holds…
This letter is for you.

In honor of World Mental Health Day this week, I just released a new episode of Notes from the Tenderverse. It’s a reflection on how to care for our nervous systems and spirits in a time of constant overwhelm.

From personal losses and daily stressors to global conflicts and upheavals, we are holding a lot.

And while we can’t fix everything all at once, we can choose how we care for our inner world.

Here’s what you’ll hear in this episode:

• Why nervous system care is essential in times of overwhelm

• Four gentle anchors to help you feel more grounded and less reactive

• How creating, rather than consuming, can bring calm and clarity

• Simple ways to regulate your nervous system when triggered

• Why movement is medicine, especially when you feel stuck

• The power of life-giving communities and how to find them

• A short, self-soothing practice to help you check in with yourself

  

🎧 Listen to Episode 5: “How to Stay Sane in a World That Feels Too Much”

You’ll also find a short guided practice at the end, a moment to self-soothe and check in with what you’re really feeling and needing.

If these words meet you where you are, I hope you’ll take a moment to listen.

Before you go...

What helps you stay grounded these days?

I’d love to hear your reflections. Leave a comment or send a message. And if this resonates, consider forwarding this to a friend who might need it.

Until next time,

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Upcoming Offerings:

If you’re in the Philippines, join me on November 29-30, 2025 for a two-day immersive workshop for women on embodying self-leadership.

Learn More

In this episode of Notes from the Tenderverse, Frances invites us to gently slow down and take a breath in the midst of a chaotic world. With everything happening around us, from global crises to personal challenges, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed, anxious, and helpless.

But there are ways to stay rooted, to tend to our inner world, and to stay resilient without falling apart.

This episode offers four compassionate, research-informed anchors to help you reclaim your calm, creativity, and sense of connection even when the world feels like too much.

⏱ Timestamps:

00:00 – Opening and welcome
 01:05 – When the world feels overwhelming
 03:40 – Guiding Anchor 1: Create More Than You Consume
08:10 – Guiding Anchor 2: Learn to Self-Regulate
14:25 – Guiding Anchor 3: Move Your Body
18:36 – Guiding Anchor 4: Stay Close to Life-Giving Communities
24:00 – Recap of all 4 anchors
25:45 – Guided Practice: How to Self-Soothe
28:45 – Closing invitation & reflection

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Connect With Frances:

• Website: www.franceslacuesta.com

• Substack: franceslacuesta.substack.com

• Instagram: @frances.lacuesta

Earlier this year, I traveled to the Philippines to see my mom and to be there as my sister and her family moved to Germany. After being apart for 13 years, they were finally reunited. It was beautiful and also heartbreaking.

I came to support and helped ease the sadness, especially for my mom, who was very close to her grandchildren. I knew how hard it would be once the house grew quieter. The silence around the dining table can be deafening without the sound of the kids’ laughter.

Like most goodbyes, this one stirred something deep. It reminded me that change never stops. Even when life feels still, it’s shifting underneath us. And that shift whether big or small, is part of what makes life so precious.

Impermanence Is the Nature of Things

I come from a big Filipino family. And over the years, I’ve watched it constantly change shape. Someone moves away for school, another comes home after years abroad. A baby is born. A grandparent passes. One by one, the people we love leave, return, or enter new seasons. It never stays the same.

I remember when I left for college. My grandma, who helped raise me, was starting to forget things. I didn’t realize it was the early onset of dementia. One day, I called home, and my mom passed the phone to her. Not only did she not recognize my voice, but she also couldn’t remember me. I had to remind her who I was through choked-back tears.

Eventually, her memory faded. Her body and spirit followed.

And I realized: it’s hard to let go of who someone used to be.

But I’ve also come to understand: holding on too tightly only adds to the pain. This is the nature of life: people age, bodies change, relationships shift. Resisting it doesn’t stop the change. It just makes it harder.

So how do we live with change without getting lost in it?

Here are three anchors that have helped me. Maybe they’ll help you, too.

1. Savor the Ordinary

You’ve probably heard it before: Savor the moment. But what does that really mean?

Psychologists Fred Bryant and Joseph Veroff define savoring as “the ability to notice, appreciate, and enhance positive experiences.” And in a study published by the American Psychological Association titled Be here now: Perceptions of Uncertainty Enhances Savoring, researchers found that uncertainty makes us more likely to savor the present moment.

When my sister and her family left, I couldn’t stop thinking about how quiet the house would feel for my mom and how fast everything changed. The laughter. The mess. The noise. They’re no longer there.

And I realized: even the ordinary is sacred, especially because it doesn’t last.

Savoring can be simple. It can be expressed in ways like:
→ Really tasting your tea or coffee.
→ Listening deeply when a loved one speaks.
→ Noticing the light through the window.
→ Or hearing the birdsong outside.

It doesn’t have to be profound. But when we’re present with what is, it becomes meaningful.

2. Acceptance Is Key

Getting older has taught me something simple but hard: nothing stays the same.

Some relationships end. New ones begin. We welcome births and grieve losses.

Acceptance means honoring what’s here, just as it is. Not judging it. Not wishing it away.

It doesn’t mean we have to like the change, but we stop resisting it. And in that space, we find the power to respond with grace.

When my dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer, I had just visited my parents for the holidays. A few weeks later, I received the news, and I was devastated. The cancer spread quickly, and he passed away just six weeks after the diagnosis.

It was a major life change. But it taught me something about acceptance.

Knowing I didn’t have much time left with him helped me become more present. I decided to savor what I could, while I could. And that changed everything.

3. Letting Go Is a Sacred Act

Letting go often feels like loss. But it’s also an invitation.

When we make space for what’s ending, we make room for what’s becoming.

Resisting change creates suffering. Softening to it creates space.

Letting go isn’t giving up; it’s allowing life to flow through us.

That’s why the Serenity Prayer resonates with me:

Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.

We can grieve and still be open to what’s next.

Acceptance opens the door, but letting go helps us walk through it.

When we let go, we don’t leave love behind, we carry it with us.

We carry wisdom. We carry growth.

If you’re going through a change right now, whether big or small, may you remember that you’re not alone.

Change is constant. But so is your capacity to grow through it.

May you savor what’s here.
Accept what is.
And let go with grace.

With love,

PS. I recently re-launched my podcast, and I’d love for you to tune in.
New episode drops every two weeks. If it resonates, I’d be so grateful if you’d subscribe, share it with a friend, or leave a review. Your support means the world! ❤️🙌🏽

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In this episode, Frances speaks to the ever-moving nature of life and on how change can feel both disorienting and full of wisdom. Whether you're in the middle of a shift, an ending, or a beginning, this episode invites you to meet it with curiosity and care.

Timestamps: (10.5 minute listen)

00:00 – Opening & warm welcome
 00:40 – Reflecting on change as life’s constant
 01:25 – Personal transitions: witnessing life’s seasons
 02:45 – Three Guiding Anchors:
 02:45 – 1. Savor the Ordinary
 05:50 – 2. Acceptance is Key
 07:05 – 3. Letting Go is a Sacred Act
 08:30 – A quiet reminder: you are allowed to evolve
 09:45 – Closing reflection & invitation to trust your unfolding

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Connect With Frances:

• Website: www.franceslacuesta.com

• Substack: franceslacuesta.substack.com

• Instagram: @frances.lacuesta

Hello Tender One,

There’s a season for everything.

And this season for me is about dreaming…

A dream for a possible future, not just for myself, but also for others, and the world.

This week’s podcast episode begins with a question that’s been sitting in my heart lately:

What future are you standing for?

Not just wishing for but quietly choosing, tending to, and embodying even in the smallest of ways.

In Episode 3 of Notes from the Tenderverse, I reflect on how my relationship with ambition and dreaming has evolved over the years and what it means to root my dreams not in status or striving, but in service, purpose, and love.

I offer three guiding anchors to help you shape your own vision for the future, especially if you’re in a season of asking: What matters now?

Here’s what you’ll hear in this episode:

• How our dreams evolve with us and why that’s sacred

• The shift from “résumé virtues” to “eulogy virtues”

• A gentle reframe of manifestation as embodiment

• Why the most meaningful dreams are the ones big enough to include others

• A short, grounding practice to name your intention

🎧 Listen to Episode 3: “What Future Are You Standing For?”

An invitation:

After you listen, take a moment to ask yourself:

What future do I want to help build with my presence, my words, my work?

Then write a simple one-line intention.

Let it be your compass to what wants to unfold.

With love,

P.S. If this episode speaks to you, I’d be honored if you shared it with a friend or someone who might need this little nudge too.

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Here’s a poem from John O’ Donohue.

May this inspire you to stand for a future rooted in love, safety, and kindness.

For Longing
John O’Donohue

blessed be the longing that brought you here
and quickens your soul with wonder.

may you have the courage to listen to the voice of desire
that disturbs you when you have settled for something safe.

may you have the wisdom to enter generously into your own unease
to discover the new direction your longing wants you to take.

may the forms of your belonging – in love, creativity, and friendship –
be equal to the grandeur and the call of your soul.

may the one you long for long for you.
may your dreams gradually reveal the destination of your desire.

may a secret providence guide your thought and nurture your feeling.

may your mind inhabit your life with the sureness
with which your body inhabits the world.

may your heart never be haunted by ghost-structures of old damage.

may you come to accept your longing as divine urgency.
may you know the urgency with which God longs for you.

In this episode, Frances shares a reflection sparked by a question: What future are you standing for? From shifting ambitions in midlife to collective dreams rooted in compassion, this episode invites you to pause, reflect, and imagine again. 

With three guiding anchors and a grounding practice, Frances helps you explore how to align your evolving self with an evolving dream, not just for your own life, but for the world we’re all part of. 

 Timestamps:

00:00 – Opening & welcome

01:20 – The spiral of returning: changing dreams in midlife

04:30 – Anchor 1: Let Your Evolving Self Shape an Evolving Dream (Crystalline Power)

07:10 – Anchor 2: Root Your Dream in Purpose and Live It as a Practice (Intention & Embodiment)

09:30 – Anchor 3: Let Your Dream Be Big Enough to Include Others (Collective Vision & Hope)

11:30 – Practice: Intention-Setting – What Future Are You Standing For?

13:45 – Closing reflection & invitation to share 

Guiding Anchors from this Episode:

1. Let Your Evolving Self Shape an Evolving Dream Tap into your crystallized intelligence or insight shaped by life experience and create from the values that matter most now. 

2. Root Your Dream in Purpose and Live It as a Practice Set intentions that rise from love and clarity, not pressure or fear. Let them take form in the way you move through the world. 

3. Let Your Dream Be Big Enough to Include Others The most powerful dreams are collective. Imagine futures not only for yourself, but for your communities and the world. 

Mentioned 

• Arthur Brooks – From Strength to Strength 

• Dr. James Doty – Into the Magic Shop, Mind Magic 

• Concepts: Crystallized intelligence, intention-setting, manifestation grounded in neuroscience 

Send a text

Connect With Frances:

• Website: www.franceslacuesta.com

• Substack: franceslacuesta.substack.com

• Instagram: @frances.lacuesta