Write From the Wound ended this past Sunday.
13 people completed the journey. Their ancestors showed up. Wounds that were buried for who knows how long opened. Transformation happened.
It’s been beautiful to witness them, and I already know what the next iteration of WFTW will be based on their results. It’s also been a transformative experience for me as well. I’ve been learning about what it actually takes to hold this kind of space.
Someone in the program asked for my insights on interpreting a card that kept showing up for them. This card showed up three times across different days. If you work with tarot, you know the cards get when they start stalking you. This particular card was literally on their ass, and they wanted to know what it meant.
I could’ve just told them.
Given them the traditional meaning. Applied it to their situation. And made them feel “helped.”
That would’ve been clean and easy. Faster. I’m sure they would’ve felt grateful.
But it wouldn’t have truly served them. And if you know me, I’m not here for likes and performity. I’m here to serve — from the heart.
Here’s what I noticed in their email to me:
They had an prior experience where a tarot facilitator asked them to describe what they saw in the very card that kept coming out. Another woman in the group told them they were wrong.
That created a wound.
Now, they’re asking me — another facilitator — to tell them what the card means.
The asking is the wound.
They’re waiting for permission to trust their knowing. Waiting for an external authority to validate their interpretation. Questioning themselves every time they pull a card.
And if I just gave them the answer, I would perpetuate that pattern.
I would become the external authority they’re learning not to defer to.
I could’ve “rescued” them:
Just interpret the card
Give them the “right” answer per traditional meanings
They feel helped
Move on to the next email
That’s easier. That’s faster. That takes less energy.
Instead, I chose liberation — to truly serve:
Reflect the pattern back to them
Show them how the card appearing three times is the real message
Show them how asking what it means is the wound
Give them an assignment: Pull the card again. Sit with YOUR knowing. Write what it means to YOU. Don’t ask permission for it to be right.
That’s harder. That’s slower. That takes more energy.
When someone asks you to give them the answer, they’re really asking you to rescue them from discomfort of doing the work themselves.
And rescue feels good:
Takes less time
They feel “helped” immediately
You feel useful
Everyone walks away satisfied
No discomfort to hold
But rescue doesn’t create transformation.
It creates dependency.
They leave feeling helped but still questioning themselves the next time. Still waiting for someone to tell them if they’re right.
They haven’t learned to trust their own knowing. They’ve just learned to trust YOU instead of themselves.
Liberation requires something different.
When I chose to reflect the pattern instead of interpreting the card, I had to:
Take time to SEE the pattern (what’s actually happening here?)
Craft a response that points them to their knowing without rescuing or making them feel bad
Trust they can do the work themselves
Hold them capable even when they’re asking for answers
Accept they might not like it (they asked for rescue, I gave excavation)
That takes more energy than just answering the question.
Because now I’m not just responding to an email. I’m holding space for transformation.
I’m witnessing the wound. Naming the pattern. Pointing them back to their own wisdom. Trusting their capacity to excavate.
That’s why holding space is exhausting. Beautiful and fulfilling, but exhausting nonetheless.
Answering emails ain’t hard.
Choosing not to rescue someone — choosing to hold them capable of their own liberation — takes way more energy than just giving them what they’re asking for.
As responses continue to come in, I have to choose:
Am I teaching the framework or doing the work for them?
Am I pointing them to their knowing or replacing it with mine?
Am I holding them capable or treating them as incapable?
Am I facilitating or becoming the external authority they’re learning not to defer to?
That decision costs something.
The easier path is there. Just answer the question. Make them feel helped. Move on to the next email. But that’s not how I choose to serve.
You can build the perfect container. You can write the clearest teaching. You can provide every tool they need.
But you can’t do the excavation for them.
And you shouldn’t.
Because the moment I start interpreting their cards, I become the pattern I’m trying to help them break. I become the external authority they’re learning not to defer to.
My job isn’t to give them the answer.
My job is to teach them how to find it themselves.
To point them back to their own knowing. To reflect the pattern that’s keeping them stuck. To hold them capable of doing their own excavation.
This is what they don’t teach you about creating spiritual offerings.
Course creators talk about funnels, upsells, downsells and email sequences. They waffle on about strategies and conversion rates. Tech platforms and automation.
Nobody’s talking about this part:
The daily choice between rescue and liberation.
The energy it takes to not give someone the answer they’re asking for.
The trust required to hold people capable even when they’re asking you to do it for them.
The boundary work of saying “I won’t interpret this for you - here’s how to trust your own knowing.”
This is the hidden curriculum of spiritual business.
And it’s the work that actually creates transformation.
And in case you’re wondering… this is the same pattern that shows up in writing.
You know intuitively: This dialogue needs to stay in AAVE.
Workshop says: “Clean it up, make it more accessible.”
You question yourself: “Maybe they’re right, maybe I should...”
You abandon your knowing.
You know intuitively: This character’s passivity is survival strategy.
Feedback says: “Give her more agency, make her fight back.”
You question yourself: “Maybe I’m just avoiding conflict...”
You abandon your knowing.
You know intuitively: This needs to be stated directly, not hidden in metaphor.
Beta reader says: “Too on the nose, trust your readers.”
You question yourself: “Maybe I’m being heavy-handed...”
You abandon your knowing.
IT’S THE SAME DAMN PATTERN.
Trusting external authority over your own knowing. Asking for validation. Waiting for permission.
This is what Write From the Wound excavates.
Not just with tarot cards. With everything.
Your writing. Your voice. Your creative decisions. Your response to feedback.
Seven days of learning to trust your first hit. Your intuition. Your body’s wisdom. Your knowing.
Even when external authority contradicts you.
Even when someone tells you you’re wrong.
Even when rescue feels safer than trusting yourself.
Building the container wasn’t the hardest part. Teaching my framework wasn’t the hardest part. Creating the emails and the assignments and the structure - none of that was hard.
The hardest part is choosing not to rescue people when rescue would be so much easier. I’m a problem-solver. It’s what I do.
But that choice — reflection over rescue, liberation over dependency, holding them capable over doing it for them — that’s what creates the transformation I’m offering.
And it costs me something. Every single time.
But it’s the cost of building something real. And I gladly pay it.
Something that liberates instead of creating dependency.
Something that trains people to trust their own knowing instead of deferring to external authority.
Something that teaches: your first hit is right, your intuition is valid, your knowing matters.
This is my work.
And I’m learning what it takes to truly hold it.
Not just the teaching. Not just the content. Not just the framework.
The daily choice to reflect instead of rescue. To hold capable instead of carry. To point back to their wisdom instead of replace it with mine.
That’s what liberation requires.
And that’s what I’m learning to hold.
My invitation to you…
This is what Write From the Wound teaches.
Seven days of excavating the patterns that make you abandon your knowing.
Seven days of practicing trust — in your intuition, your body, your first responses.
Seven days of recognizing where external authority convinced you to question yourself.
Not just with tarot cards. With everything.
Your writing. Your voice. Your creative decisions. Your response to feedback.
The blocks aren’t random. They’re patterns.
And once you see the pattern, you can choose something different.
You can choose to trust your knowing — even when the guidebook disagrees, even when someone in the writing workshop contradicts you, even when the so-called expert says you’re wrong.
Tools for excavating inherited blocks, white gaze wounds, nervous system responses and the conditioning that taught you not to trust yourself.
Write From the Wound is a 7-day shadow work journey for Black and Brown writers ready to excavate what’s really blocking them. Created by me, Lakeisha, High Priestess of The Story Temple.
Questions? Drop a comment below or reply to this email.