When I was four years old, I discovered something extraordinary: I could shrink trains!.
My grandfather, el Papi, came from Buenos Aires to visit us in the Pampas. He loved steam trains, and one day we heard that one would be passing through town. Excited, he held my hand and took me to the station to watch it.
The sound came before the sight. A loud whistle split the air, followed by the deep rumble of wheels on the track. Suddenly, I saw it—a massive iron machine wrapped in smoke, racing towards us. To my young eyes, it was more than a train; it was a monster of steel and fire.
Fear took hold of me. I squeezed Papi’s hand as tightly as I could. Without saying a word, he lifted me up and pressed me against his chest. I buried my face in his shoulder. The train still thundered past, but in his arms, my fear softened. My heartbeat slowed. I felt safe.
When I opened my eyes again, something had changed. The train no longer looked like a monster.
It was smaller, something I could approach. Still holding Papi’s hand, I stepped forward and touched it. Somehow, I had shrunk the train.
Of course, the train hadn’t really changed in size. What changed was me. In the safety of Papi’s embrace, my fear dissolved, and with it the train lost its power. Love had made the impossible possible. When our emotional brain, the limbic system, is contained our rational brain can think more clearly. Conversely, when we’re in fear, our rational brain is blocked.
We all have “trains” in life—things that feel too big, too loud, too overwhelming. Fears, failures, responsibilities, or painful memories that loom so large they seem ready to crush us. But when we notice and name what we feel, we open the door to finding support. A hand to hold. A memory that comforts. A voice of encouragement. Even our inner strength. And when we do, the trains shrink. They become something we can face.
This is the heart of Feelings Allowed: the courage to notice and name our emotions, and the wisdom to reach for connection when life feels too much. The book invites us to remember that we do not have to face our trains alone. The Pillars of Life, mentioned in the book as a resource, helps us to dwell in —our values, memories, and inner resources—become anchors that steady us when the noise and smoke surround us. They remind us: you are safe, you are not alone, you can face this.
Because when we are held in love, whether in another’s arms or within the embrace of our own grounded self, we really can shrink trains.
So, I leave you with this question: what trains feel too big in your life right now? And who, or what, can you hold onto until your fear softens, and the train becomes small enough to touch?
That’s the gift of Feelings Allowed: to discover that inside connection and love, even the biggest trains can grow small.
You can Shrink Trains Too!
