The Power of Vulnerability: Asking for What We Truly Want
When we think of vulnerability, we often imagine someone standing on the edge of a cliff, looking out into a vast unknown. It’s the trembling voice that dares to say, “I’m scared,” or the courageous heart that shares its deepest fears and darkest secrets. And while these acts of openness are undoubtedly vulnerable, there’s another form of vulnerability that we often overlook—a kind that can be even more profound and terrifying: asking for what we truly want.
Naming Our Desires: A Deep Act of Vulnerability
To name our desires, to say out loud what we want, and to claim it—this is vulnerability in its rawest form. Why? Because our desires are so intimate, so deeply entwined with our sense of self, that to voice them is to expose the very core of who we are. It's one thing to admit our fears; it's another to proclaim our hopes, dreams, and needs. When we dare to express what we want, we’re not just revealing our inner world; we’re laying ourselves bare before the judgment and rejection of others. The act of claiming what we desire is fraught with risk. What if we don’t get it? What if we are met with indifference or, worse, with outright rejection? What if the things we want are deemed too much, too bold, too audacious by others? In these moments, we feel small, alone, and exposed. Vulnerability is not just about showing our soft underbelly; it’s about standing in the truth of our wants, no matter how they are received.
A Practice of Sacred Dialogue: "Letters from God"
Over the past year, I’ve cultivated a practice that has helped me navigate this kind of vulnerability with greater grace and strength. Inspired by Elizabeth Gilbert’s "Letters from Love," I’ve developed my own version, which I call “Letters from God.” This practice has become a cornerstone of my morning routine, a sacred dialogue that allows me to connect deeply with my desires and fears, and find the courage to express them. The practice is simple but profound. Each morning, I carve out time for myself—no distractions, just a few quiet moments to drop into my own being. To set the tone, I like to pull an oracle card from one of my many decks, letting it guide the emotional or energetic direction of my writing session. Then, I begin by writing, “God, what would you have me know today?” And then I wait. I wait for God to respond.
And here’s the beautiful thing: God always does.
In my writings, God—who can be interchanged with Love, Source, Universe, any divine entity, or even your Higher Self—always starts with a term of endearment: “My sweet one,” “My love,” “Beloved.” And in these intimate exchanges, I find a relationship where I can be completely open and vulnerable. I pour out my desires, my fears, my confusion, my pain. And in return, I receive messages that make me feel safe, seen, cared for, and provided for.
Building Strength Through Vulnerability
This practice of “Letters from God” has become a sanctuary for me—a place where I am fully held and understood. It’s given me the strength to show up more vulnerably in all areas of my life. Knowing that I have this one relationship where I am completely safe allows me to take more risks in other relationships. It has given me the courage to voice my desires, to say the hard things, to speak up when I am hurt, to admit when I’m confused or don’t know something. It has made it so much easier to ask for help, love, comfort, and connection from others. The strength I gain from this practice doesn’t come from the absence of fear or uncertainty; it comes from embracing it. It comes from knowing that no matter how my desires are received, no matter how exposed I feel, I am still whole, I am still worthy, I am still loved.
Your Invitation to Vulnerability
I invite you to try this practice for yourself. Find a quiet space, free from distractions. Pull an oracle card or simply sit in stillness for a few moments. Then, write a letter to God—or whatever name resonates with you. Ask, “What would you have me know today?” and wait for the response. Let this practice be a space where you can be wholly vulnerable, where you can voice your deepest desires and fears without judgment or shame.
Because here’s the truth: Being vulnerable, especially in asking for what we want, is one of the bravest things we can do. It’s an act of radical self-love and self-acceptance. It’s a declaration that our desires matter, that we matter. And that, dear one, is a gift both to ourselves and to the world.
With love and courage,
Kate
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