The Festival of Unexpected Thresholds
There is so much I could say about the festival that Kasha and I went to recently and how much we felt before, during and after! It was one of those experiences that creates a turning point inside, a threshold crossing that unfolded in unexpected ways.
Before we even left, there was a lot of anticipation, tension and pressure. It was our first festival together as vendors, and there was a vulnerability in putting ourselves and what we create out into the world and wondering whether people would actually be drawn to it.
For me, there was also a deeper layer around money, worthiness and abundance, with some old tension around receiving and the ways my inner masculine can feel responsible for some of this. We spent some time working through what was coming up before we left, and by the time we arrived, I felt much clearer and more grounded.
One of the first things that helped was seeing that our sleeping tent was right next to our stall. There was something about having our temporary home right there with us that immediately made the whole experience feel more held and comfortable.
As the vendors around us arrived throughout the day we also felt a sense of connection there that would later show us the inevitable way in which you become family in a situation like this. There was such a sweetness in each of them and even any tensions that arose felt understandable and moved quickly. We got to help others while they so effortlessly helped us in return, which reminded me of the way humans truly do crave connection and community.
The first night was challenging in its own way, with soundcheck going on until the early hours, but somehow even that became part of the experience. Rather than feeling overwhelmed by everything happening around us, I found myself fascinated by the humanity of it all.
We met quite a few sweet souls throughout that first day, our first sales trickling in that created some relief for us that our creations were in fact desired! One of the first things to go was an old pair of barefoot sandals I’d made years ago, something I’d carried with me for a long time and had secretly assumed would never find its person.
It felt like such a beautiful reminder not to devalue something simply because it hasn’t found the right person yet.
After we closed the stall that first night, we went dancing. We only stayed for about an hour, but it was enough to get a taste of the energy of the festival at night. There were a few people we’d connected with that we couldn’t find again, and rather than chasing it, I had this sense that we’d reconnect if and when we were meant to.
We also saw a fox that night that was so magical to witness in the middle of a very loud and crowded festival! This fox would later return and become almost a mascot of the weekend.
By the next day, everything felt more familiar. We were settling into the rhythm of the festival, getting more comfortable with the heat, finding our way to the river for swims and shade, and becoming more connected to the people around us.
I noticed how naturally Kasha and I were beginning to attune to each other’s needs too, when one of us needed a break, water, food, shade, connection or simply a moment to ourselves.
And then, toward the end of that day, something unexpected unfolded.
I found myself connecting much more deeply with a soul I’d been lightly crossing paths with throughout the previous two days. We’d noticed each other, spoken a little, and somehow the connection kept finding its way back into the field of the weekend.
While he was there, we had some wine with him and our neighbors, creating the sweetest little living room set up between our stalls. This was probably the period of time that stood out to me the most. Kasha was in deep conversation with our neighbors while I was sharing my jewelry with someone who was taking it all in with such presence and appreciation.
The rest of the night felt like something out of a movie in moments. The deepening connection I was making was one that I hadn’t fully anticipated, and what unfolded between us opened something much deeper than I had expected to encounter there.
There was a feeling of recognition and presence that is difficult to put into words. It was as though, for a brief moment, the usual layers of life became very thin and there was simply an experience of being deeply seen, met and invited into something new. It was beautiful, surprising and also quite confronting in the best possible way.
What struck me most wasn’t necessarily the specifics of what happened, but what the experience revealed to me about myself. There are parts of me that are very accustomed to depth, intimacy and allowing life to move through me fully, and yet there are other parts that still hold so much tenderness around being seen in that way. The experience brought some of those parts right to the surface.
It reminded me that we don’t always get to choose what becomes a threshold for us. Sometimes we arrive somewhere thinking we’re there for one purpose and we’re offered something entirely different. I didn’t expect to encounter something that would ask me to look more closely at how I relate, how quickly I open, what intimacy means to me, and where I still long to be deeply met.
There was both joy and grief in that. The joy of discovering another layer of myself, and the tenderness of realizing how much I long for connection that feels reciprocal, present and deeply alive, just as I have in my everyday life in community.
In some ways, the encounter became part of the larger lesson of the festival: that we can never fully predict what experiences will show us a new layer of what we truly need and desire for our next steps of growth and healing.
And perhaps that’s what I treasure most about the whole experience. It wasn’t simply the people I met, the things we sold, the music, the river, the fox or the many little moments of community. It was the way the entire experience seemed to loosen something in me.
I arrived carrying questions about abundance, worthiness, humanity and whether what I create would be received.
I left with something much harder to quantify: a deeper understanding of what it means to let myself be seen, to allow experiences to change me, and to trust that even when I don’t know where something is leading, there can still be something sacred in having lived it.
Sending love on your own personal journey,
Raianna
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Raianna Shai is a Divine Self Embodiment Facilitator in 1:1 sessions with women. Visit https://www.divineselfembodiment.com for more information about space-holding sessions and free 45-min intro calls, group calls, videos, community, etc.
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