Evelyn Carayannis, Living The Life You Love

12/15/2025

Thank you Julia 🙏

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12/15/2025

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12/07/2025

00:00 – The Question That Changes Everything01:12 – “Who Told You They Abandoned You?”04:05 – The Power of Narrative Control06:10 – How Alienating Parents Re...

10/03/2025

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09/19/2025

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Thank you Andreas for your reminder to be tender with ourselves.

Τα λάθη σου
θέλουν
απέραντη και
τρυφερή καλοσύνη.❤️

08/29/2025

I am With you Arielle!!!





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Wish: Story of the Day

"This is a wish for all the people of the world to know what it is to be safe and loved."

This story by Gabriel Andreas, with art by Matthew Andreas, is available as a print here: https://conta.cc/4mA6O5n

Want little bits of goodness in your email inbox? Click here to learn about Story of the Day and to get a sweet treat: https://conta.cc/3zTZcYs

08/25/2025

Thank you Julia!!!

Holy Pause

By Julia Fehrenbacher

Sometime between mindlessly
loading the dishwasher and wiping
the crumb-covered countertops,
I make my way back—
to the hickory floor beneath tired feet,
to the smell of sautéing garlic and onions,
to the soothing sound of end-of-summer
showers. Another season, another day,
slowing slipping away.
I close my eyes and listen
to the song that speaks about
how fast it all goes. And god,
how I want to be here for it. All
of it.
I need a thousand more years,
a thousand more ways to say thank you
for the wonder
of even this one
ordinary moment.
I will make my way back—
to the ground that holds me,
to the something
that stands still and tall inside
my own skin.

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08/13/2025

Thank you Julia for reminding us to slow down and to consider the enough.





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08/10/2025

Thank you Matt!!! Love supporting my clients find their voice, and then a bigger part of themselves.

The throat is often left behind on the inner journey - but it is a sacred gateway. The bridge between our inner world and outer expression… between essence and articulation… between soul and sound.

What is stirring there, waiting to be voiced?

Notice what’s here: tension, tightness, constriction, trembling, or perhaps the beginnings of an upwelling. Sometimes it’s a repression, other times it’s a quiet readiness. A truth not yet named. A song not yet sung. A boundary waiting to be honored.

This is the cave of the inner oracle. And for many, a younger part lives here too - a sacred orphan of the voice, curled in the corner, who wasn’t allowed to speak, to cry, to shout, or to name what was real.

Let this be the invitation to come into the light.

To speak.
To sing.
To sob.
To roar.
To bless.
To name.
To reclaim.

07/30/2025

Thank you Matt. I love it that you’re talking about pausing a little longer and feeling into the moment before giving it meaning.





Perhaps we might begin to question our use of the word “trigger” when describing the emergence of emotional or somatic material. In a world already overwhelmed by violence, perhaps we can do better than rely on metaphors rooted in weaponry to describe the tender unfolding of the human heart.

What if, instead of being triggered, we are being touched - by the ghosts of unfelt feeling, by shards of dissociated joy, by fragments of forgotten grief, by the body’s secret longing to be known?

What if these eruptions are not enemies to be managed, but visitors to be tended - messengers bearing news from a deeper realm, asking not to be silenced, but seen?

In this way, we begin to imagine a more sensitive language - one that mirrors the subtlety of psyche and the dignity of the nervous system.

To be touched, stirred, summoned, activated…

Not as pathology, but as portal.

A call into radical friendship with the inner figures we’ve cast out - the wrathful ones, the broken ones, the overwhelmed ones - each an emissary of integration, each a necessary piece of our wholeness.

07/28/2025

Thank you Matt!!!

We don't live in a world that honors the purity and wisdom of grief, and the ways that love will take us apart, dissolving the dream of the way we thought it was all going to turn out.

As we hold the broken pieces near, we bear witness to the liquefying of even our most sacred realizations, ideas, hopes, and beliefs.

Somehow, the soul is weeping from the inside, which allows the salt in our tears to wash us out, cleansing our perception and polishing our hearts, so that we may become a transparent vehicle for love to find its way here.

The invitation is into an embodied lamentation – sensual, tactile, and attuned to the imaginal – to the allies and figures that come to show us something we’ve forgotten about the preciousness of this place and the beauty in the broken.

In this way, we gather the split-off pieces into a holy vase and place them on an altar in front of us. Through speaking to them and metabolizing feeling in the body, we allow the decaying material to move on without us, with dignity, mercy, and compassion.

The falling apart of the known is not some great cosmic error to correct or repair, but an emissary of the archetype of the Friend, who calls out and finds us by way of the shattered places, in the depths and in the valleys, near the wet moss and the rotting logs.

Coming into oneness, unity, and having everything together is not more spiritual, more sacred, or more complete than being dissolved, falling apart, and attuned with multiplicity.

Within the vessel of the Heart, separation and union are equally holy stages, states, and processes, unique and differentiated arrows in the quiver of the beloved, ways that she longs and yearns to draw us nearer to Her.

07/28/2025

Thank you, Michael Fiore!!

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