Be Still

I haven’t been around here much. Mostly, I’ve been taking long walks where I try not to talk to myself too loudly, getting plenty of sleep and not worrying too much about this recent lack of productivity. Sometimes it is ok to be still. 

In this stillness I have had a lot of thoughts of the past and the person I once was. I also recently moved and have been finding old pictures and trinkets from my childhood and it has brought a lot of feelings up. I was precocious, funny and bubbly as a little kid, but I was also often anxious, overly sensitive and prone to melancholy. I suppose that is not so different from the person I am today.  And really it hasn’t been that long since I have allowed myself to truly sit with the past because it makes me sad to look at pictures of that little girl. It was a very scary time in my life that I have tried to push away and I’m sure a lot of you can relate to that. Childhood is such a sacred yet powerless time and it is easy to get crushed. The last few months have been very trying physically  and it has finally occurred to me that at least some of it is unprocessed trauma that I did my damnedest to ignore. Well, you can’t ignore these things forever because if you don’t deal with them they yell at you in ways that you have no choice but to deal with…like face rashes and swollen joints. So I’m finally dealing and not self-medicating and it kind of sucks, but that’s OK. I’m lucky to have so much support and clarity in this process and for the first time I can see the other side, so even though it is a frustrating I’ve gotten to a really hopeful place and have integrated so much of this knowledge that giving up doesn’t even seem possible anymore. It has taken so many years to just get here. I want to really stress that. This is not a miracle (though it sometimes feels like it), but rather the result of really slow and painful hard work and guidance from many unfathomably patient teachers and mentors.

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Little me

I was walking yesterday and experiencing quite a bit of physical discomfort that I was trying to ignore. And I kept trying to ignore it throughout the yoga class I was walking to, especially because my joints seemed to be click-clacking more than the 70 year old lady in front of me and it was really embarrassing. Finally, it became too much and I ended up doing quite a bit of child’s pose. After class the  yoga teacher advised me not to push it (wasn’t expecting that!), but to keep showing up. I thanked her, but left class feeling pretty defeated. It was on my way home that it clicked. This stillness is not  a self-indulgent choice as I had chastised myself for, but rather an absolute necessity in a time when I really need to listen. I’ve been afraid to listen because I feared that if I went too far inward that I would not be able to hear what was around me, but then I remembered how my grandma used to let me put her stethoscope on my stomach and it sounded like the ocean and when I put it on her stomach it also sounded like the ocean and realizing we are all made of the same stuff.


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