Founder Letter: The Soft Gaze

Have you noticed how differently life unfolds when you meet it with softness instead of scrutiny?

Dear Rosies,

I have a feeling you already know this — maybe you even live it most of the time. You know the power of meeting life with a merciful eye. Of looking at people and at yourself with tenderness, seeing their complexity instead of demanding a sort of one dimensional simplicity. You’ve felt what happens when you stay attuned to the subtle shifts in someone’s heart instead of reducing them to their worst moment or loudest opinion.

This letter is a love note to that capacity in you. To the one that sees nuance, that holds contradiction, that can witness a mistake without turning it into a verdict. The one that remembers someone can be both difficult and trying their best. That you too can be imperfect and still perfectly whole.

When we pause before reacting — that’s the soft gaze. When we forgive before it’s “earned” — that’s the soft gaze. If you’ve ever met your body, your child, your partner, a stranger with curiosity instead of critique — you’re already practicing.

You know the difference between a hard gaze and a soft one. The hard gaze is the one many of us were trained in: scanning for flaws, sharpening judgment, bracing for what’s wrong. Hardness flattens. It divides the world into right and wrong, success and failure, worthy and unworthy.

The soft gaze is something else entirely. It’s how you look at a sleeping baby, a sunset, or the first blossom in spring. It’s curious but not corrective. Present but not policing. It lets things be what they are while still being deeply engaged. And it sees what the hard gaze cannot: nuance, subtlety, humanity… in you, in others, in the world itself.

You’ve probably already noticed how things respond differently when you soften. The tight shoulders you might usually attack with foam rollers? When you meet them with curiosity — “What are you holding? What are you trying to say?” — they often melt without a fight. More importantly, you sense what’s underneath: memory, protection, words unsaid.

The conversation you’ve been dreading? Come to it soft, and you might feel the fear beneath someone’s defense, the longing beneath their demand. Softness opens a space for truth that force never could.

Even the texture of a day changes. Instead of muscling through tasks, checking boxes, powering ahead, you might find yourself moving through the hours as if approaching a shy animal: gently, curiously, without force.

And yes — we all forget. I do. I find myself jaw tight, body braced, eyes hard. Then I remember what you probably remember too: soften.

Soften your gaze — literally, let your eyes relax, let your face soften.
Soften inward — let the belly release, give your heart more space, loosen your thoughts. Meet what’s here — the tension, the fear, the joy, the mess — with wonder instead of warfare.

Here’s the beautiful paradox: softness doesn’t make you fragile. It makes you available — to what you feel, to what you know, to what’s actually here. Hardness cuts us off and flattens the world into binaries. Softness brings us home to the living truth.

So this week, as you move through your life, honor the soft gaze that’s already yours. Offer it to your body. To the people you love. To the things that scare you. To the plain, ordinary moments.

You are already the one who can look with wonder, meet with gentleness, and allow with love. This is just a reminder — a hand on your shoulder, whispering, Yes. Keep going. Keep softening.

All love, all the time,
Christine Marie