Holding the frequency (even when a part of you wants to put out the fire)

Because the truth is, nobody will know about your work unless you tell them.

Sometimes you wake up gritty-eyed at 4:44am on the final day of registration.
Your body becomes heavy, your mind fogged. The post you meant to write won’t come through, and the desire to push mirrors swimming against stone.

So instead, you move with what’s alive.
Conversations started, texts sent. Energy moved in the cracks of connection. And those small sparks, those exchanges, nourished enough life in me that I could sit down here, now, to offer this transmission.

This is what it means to hold frequency.

Because the truth is, nobody will know about your work unless you tell them. And telling them isn’t always elegant. It isn’t always a perfectly-timed post, a polished campaign, or an easy flow of words.

Sometimes it’s fumbling. Sometimes it’s the emails you send between the quivering voice of “I’m spamming people’s inboxes.” Sometimes it’s pushing—or better yet, tending—a little more when every part of you wants to roll over and pull the covers back over your head.

I know how much shadow rises here. The gripping thought of being too much. The idea of taking up space that’s hard to swallow. The story emerges, “I’ll be a bother.”

But here’s the reality: most people are not reading your emails. Most people are not tracking you as closely as you think.

And that’s a relief.
Because it means the pressure you place on every word is unnecessary.

The beauty is this: when they do finally open one, it can land like lightning.

This weekend a friend of mine opened one single email—out of the many I’d been sending about IGNITE. Just one. And it happened to be the exact one she needed to see. She owns a studio and has been sensing the nudge to bring her work online. That message spoke directly to her. She said, “I just saw your IGNITE email! I want to register so badly!” We got on a call. She said yes. And just like that—aligned resonance.

That’s evidence. That’s how this works. Not every message has to meet every person every time. Your consistency creates the conditions for synchronicity.

Some people will read all of your emails because they love the way your words land in their body—each time offering a new perspective. I’ve received this reflection by many. Others will never open them, and eventually we clean our lists, delete non-openers, honoring energetic boundaries. Some unsubscribe, and more than likely, they weren’t meant to register anyway.

Still—you keep tending the fire.

Because a launch is never a straight shot of momentum. It’s not movement from start to end. There are pauses. There are moments of crickets. Moments when you’re alone in the lodge, holding the fire yourself.

And in those moments: You are the energy. You are the movement.

This is the alchemy of holding frequency.

It’s not about waiting for external response—it’s about becoming the transmission.

And to do that, I’ve learned I cannot go it alone.

I lean on the people and practices that hold me upright: the friendships I’ve built, somatic support, astrology, the containers I’ve said yes to.

I think about Adriana Rizzolo, who carried me through my shame and trauma and then all the way to India. About Carolyn, author of Existential Kink, who taught me innocence is infinite and all parts of my human experience are redeemed and loved. About the countless circles I’ve joined over the past three years—every single one catalyzing me forward.

Every time, I’ve been held not just by the guide but by the community—witnessed in my breakthroughs, mirrored in my shadows, forged in the alchemical cauldron of being seen.

That’s why I refuse to do this alone. That’s why I built IGNITE.

Because what’s emerging here is not just a program—it’s a coven. A circle of chiropractors owning their intuitive readings, massage therapists claiming their witchiness, spiritual activists daring to build hearths that sustain their visionary fire.

And it’s not just me holding the space.

Michelle, an embodiment coach and now dear friend from a shared container—guiding group sessions, helping you move past the places where you’re frozen in fear. She is a queen of magnetism and expansion. I know, because when I was stuck, she cracked me open. She coached me while I helped her with her landing pages. That reciprocal magic changed both of us.

Eve, a feminine-led astrologer, another soul connection from a program. She brings a depth of ancient wisdom that grounds in planetary rhythms. She has helped me recognize my own alignment again and again, validating the whispers I already knew to be true, nudging me to follow the hard but honest paths—even when it meant burning things down. (My Aries moon won’t let me cling even if I tried,)

And then there’s me, bringing my full range: somatic healing, psychic transmission, practical business strategy, the ability to make the complex simple and poetic. A witch in a muggle world.

This is an initiation.

Not the kind you think you’re signing up for, but the kind you actually need. The one that shape-shifts your work, expands your capacity, pares away what has become too much.

And initiations touch every part of life.

Like my son—fifteen now, caught between my world of wizardry and his dad’s muggleness. I tell him often that he’s a co-creator, that he gets to question the systems crumbling around him, even as he learns to navigate them. We’re in a world where the old structures are dissolving, and our children need tools to orient inside the disillusionment. That’s part of what I’m modeling when I hold these fires.

Because this is how new worlds are built: not by collapsing into grind and burnout, but by weaving community, lifting each other, and daring to hold frequency long enough for the new structures to take shape.

That’s why you’ll see IGNITE alive here in this Substack space. You’ll meet the coven members. You’ll witness their unfolding. You’ll taste their work. This isn’t just me at the front—it’s us, cross-weaving, amplifying, building together.

Because what are we doing if not lifting one another up?

This is the work:

Holding the frequency when your eyes are gritty at 4:44am.
Sending the email when the story whispers: it’s too much.
Letting yourself be supported when you can’t hold it alone.
Becoming the transmission—again and again.

So, I’m curious:

What does it look like for you to tend your work when you’d rather retreat?
Where do you still hold the idea that “it’s a bother”?
Who or what helps you sustain the frequency when the ground shakes?

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This is how I tend to the fire.

In devotion,

Rosa Santoyo
Soma Moon Sanctuary

P.S. Today is the last day to submit an application to join the IGNITE coven. Apply here.