Chiiiile, Please!

Chiiiile,
We are not sprinting into this year with clenched jaws and tight shoulders. We are not dragging last year’s survival habits into a season that deserves softness. We are not explaining why we need rest, why we choose ease, or why our nervous systems matter.

As Black women, we have mastered endurance. We know how to make something out of nothing. We know how to show up polished even when we are tired. We know how to hold families, communities, visions, and rooms together. And while that strength is sacred, it is not the only way we get to exist.

This year, we are choosing presence over pressure.
We are choosing intention over urgency.
We are choosing luxury as a lived experience, not a costume.

Luxury, for us, looks like waking up without dread. It feels like moving through the day without bracing for impact. It sounds like silence that is not lonely, but nourishing. It is having the discernment to know when to move and when to sit still—and trusting ourselves either way.

We are allowed to take our time.

Not because we are behind.
But because we are aligned.

There is a sacred rhythm inside Black women that capitalism has tried to interrupt. A rhythm that knows seasons, cycles, rest, and renewal. When we rush, we abandon that wisdom. When we slow down, we return home to ourselves.

So if you felt the urge to overhaul your entire life by January 3rd, pause.
If you felt behind because you weren’t “locked in,” breathe.
If you felt the familiar pressure to prove that you’re still worthy, still powerful, still relevant—release it.

Chiiiile, please.
We are not rushing healing.
We are not rushing clarity.
We are not rushing becoming.

We are letting this year meet us.

Gentle Reflections for Your Journal

Take your time with these. Light a candle. Pour something warm. Let your body soften before you write.

• Where in my life have I been rushing out of fear rather than alignment?
• What does luxury feel like in my body when no one is watching?
• What would change if I trusted my natural pace this year?
• What am I ready to release that no longer honors the woman I am becoming?
• Where do I need to slow down in order to hear myself more clearly?

A Closing Prayer

Let us pray.

Father,
Thank you for carrying us through seasons where survival was necessary.
Thank you for the strength that lives in our bones and the softness that lives in our spirits.

As we step into this new year, teach us how to move without force.
Teach us how to rest without guilt.
Teach us how to trust our timing, our bodies, and our knowing.

Cover Black women, all women with peace that does not require explanation.
Wrap Gentle Healers in discernment, clarity, and deep rest.
Remove the urgency that was never meant for us to carry.

May this year unfold with grace.
May we be gentle with ourselves.
May we remember that we are already enough.

Amen.

We are not late.
We are not lacking.
We are exactly where we need to be—and we are moving with intention from here.