💔 When the Stone Cracks: Finding Warmth in the Cold Places
- Raisa
- Oct 7
- 3 min read
Sometimes life brings us to our knees in the most ordinary ways — a broken car, a sudden bill, an unraveling plan. Yet inside these moments, something ancient stirs. Beneath the panic and disappointment lives a deeper invitation: to meet the cold places within us with warmth, and remember the fire that never went out.
Recently, my car broke down.My reliable Toyota decided to throw me a curveball and needed nearly $9,000 in repairs.
The car I had counted on to last a few more years — at least until my kids finished college — suddenly took those plans away and demanded I act immediately.
Over the next few days, I noticed a sensation growing in my chest: a cold, crushing, tightening grip. At first, I was unaware of it, finding myself binging on food or TV. Then, slowly, my body allowed me to enter the awareness of what was truly happening, and the tears came quickly.
Tears and terror.
Floods of memory: lack, humiliation, shame. Too many moments of feeling abandoned, unprotected, yet still needing to go out and make something happen
I grew up in an alcoholic household.T hough we never lacked food, shelter, or clothes, life was unstable, violent, and frightening.
This cold, gripping sense was not new; it’s an old companion, one I’ve circled for decades. Sometimes I’ve been numb to it, reaching for distraction. Other times, paralyzed by it.
But in recent years, something has shifted
—my body, heart, and mind have begun to collaborate. To integrate.
When I let my body speak its language of sensation, it first speaks through that crushing grip. But if I stay with it, if I include the mindfulness and the compassion of the heart, it warms and transforms.
When I have the presence to feel the ache, the cold, the starving desire to feel accompanied in this world…when I allow myself to long for the warmth of life at my back, and meet those desires with open body, mind, and heart —a quiet fire sparks.
I love the work of Clarissa Pinkola Estés.
Through her, I learned the story of The Stone Child, an Inuit tale about an orphan boy who had gone mad with hunger.
The tribe turned away from him and tied him to a stone, the only remnant of his parents. The boy clung to that stone as if it were his last chance at life.
He was so lonely, so hungry. He hugged the stone with his whole body, and the stone drew out all his warmth — from his feet, his legs, his arms, even his chin.
As his las frozen tear left his body, it sizzled against the now warmed stone and the stone cracked open. From within emerged a beautiful girl. She freed the boy, gave him a bow, an arrow, and a harpoon, and promised that he would never again lack nurturance.
Together, they built a life, a family, and lived a long, abundant, happy life.
That story has never left me. It continues to unfold inside me.
Every time I notice the ways I feel cold, scared, or abandoned, and turn toward myself with warmth and compassion, the stone cracks.
Every time I remember that the sensations are here and now, and I hold them with gentle presence, the stone cracks again.
It’s so easy to lose myself in distraction, to spiral into resistance or self-pity, and never reach the magic of my own warmth. But when I stay, when I soften into my own presence — the alchemy begins.
I adore my community, my loved ones, and the warmth that flows through our connection. Their care has helped me fan the embers of self-love that survived through the years.
Yet, I also know there is a territory only I can touch —a place that can only be filled by my own loving gaze.
The awakening of an inner mother who holds my experience with tenderness and says,“There, there, love…”
Every experience, no matter how painful, is an invitation —
to turn toward ourselves with love,
to move beyond victimhood or shame,
and to let the fire of self-compassion
warm us back to life.
If this story resonates, take a moment to place a hand on your heart.
Feel the warmth there — that’s where the stone cracks, and the healing begins.
Finally, as I begin sharing more of my journey in this way, it would be so affirming if you could share with someone who comes to mind when reading.
Love,
Comments