Have you ever felt like you're drowning?

The constant fighting between the kids, the endless loop of cooking, prepping, serving, feeding, cleaning. The noise.

You crawl deeper and deeper inside yourself, feeling detached and overwhelmed. And then feeling guilty. Guilty that you just want it to end. Guilty that you want the kids back in school already.

You thought it was just you?

Nah.

If I get to leave any kind of legacy, I hope it's that you know this:
You're normal. You're seen. You're not alone.

Last night, Adam texted me.
He's a friend, a trained facilitator in his own right.* And he's joining Azamra.

He wrote:
“I need a place to check in. For me. To be surrounded by people who get it. Who can support me in the way I constantly give to others.”

That's exactly what this cohort is.
A gathering of deep souls. Trained professionals. People who already give and give. And are ready to give more.
While learning what it means to be held. To be seen. To be truly appreciated.

We're not the kind of people who wait around to be rescued.
We’re the ones who show up in the mess.

The ones who sometimes sit numbly on the couch while our kids dance through a mountain of toys they just spilled, veritably singing, “You're not getting anything done todayyyyy!”

And we breathe.

Because breath is prayer.

Friday night, I waited up until chatzos; almost one in the morning.
Just for the quiet.
For that still moment before the miracle.

I read Shiras Hayam with my teens.
The Song of the Sea.
A sacred tradition I've kept the last few years, Shevi’i Shel Pesach.

It’s a segula for the miracles we all need.
For when we feel like we’re drowning.
For the waters to split.
For the path to appear.
For the invitation to walk through.

And this year, something shifted.

Somewhere in the middle of the song, I lost sight of my prayer.
Because something deeper took over.

The feeling that I already had it all.

That it was okay to praise even before I made it to the other side.
That the miracle was not in what was coming.
But in the fact that I was still here.
Still breathing. Still praising.

בְּרוּחַ אַפֶּיךָ נֶעֶרְמוּ מַיִם
With the breath of Your nose, the waters stood like a wall.

I had never noticed that before.

Hashem split the sea with His breath.
Specifically, the breath of His nose.
The very same breath I had been using all week.
The intentional exhale through my nose.
The regulation breath.
The one that calms my nervous system so I can take one more step, serve one more meal, break up one more fight.

Every exhale a miracle.
Every exhale a splitting of the sea.

At one in the morning, in the quiet of my living room, my kids stood with me and said the Shira.

They've never done that before.

I don't know what miracles they were hoping for.
But in that one small moment, I received mine.

The miracle is in the exhale.
In the surrender.
In the trust that Hashem is already holding it all.

Even now.

As I type this on my phone from the floor, playing Magna Tiles with my son Deeds.
With a million urgent things tugging at the corners of my mind.
I'm choosing to believe I don't have to hold it all.

Hashem has got this.
Hashem has got me.

And soon, I'll step into a space where a full cohort of future breath facilitators will gather.
People of depth and integrity and heart.

The kind of people who remind you who you are when the noise gets too loud.
The kind you want beside you when the sea feels endless.

I can't promise we'll never feel like we're drowning again.
But I can say that we'll learn to breathe through it together.
To split the sea with our exhale.
One sacred step at a time.

I've opened up a few more interview spots for the interested applicants who asked for an extension.
If Azamra has been calling to you, now is the time.

With love from within a sea of Magna Tiles,
Fally

* A large percentage of participants in the upcoming cohort are already trained professionals in their chosen fields. We have breathwork facilitators, coaches, somatic and holistic pulsing practitioners, kallah teachers, and other incredibles committed and brave enough to always want to learn and grow. It's inspiring and rewarding to be around people like these, and I feel humbled that we get to share that space. 

* If your soul says yes to Azamra, but your finances have you reconsidering, know that payment plans are available and they're very manageable. Reach out for the details.