Repetitive Movements
'Taking my time' to the fullest, letting it be hard and feeling great about it.
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Many things have been on my mind as of late. And consequently (though this is not always the case and for which I am grateful this time around) there are many things I am working on – my mental _[insert]_ health, fortitude, kindness, awareness, stability, routine, on and on.
For the first time in my life I feel drawn to meditation. Who knows if it’ll stick, but it feels so lovely to crave that type of self love and then give it to myself. Taking a few minutes in the morning to sit on the ground and breathe to a couple songs without feeling guilty. There’s no reason to – gifting waking rest and quiet – it’s a practice in therapy, and as such, its potential to bring positive change is nearly indisputable.
But even so, facing the challenge of stillness can be hard, so I compromise. A few mornings ago I did yoga for 10 minutes with my eyes closed. Just some sun salutations and other simple movements, using my breath like a regular meter to follow.
Repetitive movement, I’ve come to realize, is where I feel most calm. Shaping loaves of bread, peeling apples, running, moving from up dog to down dog to standing.
There’s a girl who lives at Rainbow Creek (a communal land) who I hope to know better in my remaining time here, to whatever extent naturally unfolds. She’s an artist, and what I've loved to observe is how she works at it. Each day it seems, she works at it.
Continual movement, engagement, receptivity.
And I’m thinking maybe it doesn’t feel repetitive in the calming sort of way. Not at first. And maybe it takes some time to learn the moves in which artistic growth lies. But, somewhere during that time, the innate proclivity to create reveals its rhythm, which can’t truly be described but surely can be felt.
There’s a girl who, one time, did an Instagram live video. It was November and she had made a list of prompts. Each day she would write a poem to that day’s prompt and one day she did it live, in real time, for anyone to see. I thought she was so brave.
So as I say, many things have been on my mind as of late. Mostly pertaining to noticing, reflecting, questioning and reintegrating. If I had to summarily encompass the breadth of this work, I suppose I’d label it healing.
Over the last couple months countless people have approached me with questions of “when are you leaving to travel” “oh you’re in town? what have you been doing,” “why are you staying here still; why don’t you want to just go” etc etc.
The answer is: I don’t quite know yet; yes I’m here; I’ve been trying to take care of myself physically + mentally, deepen my friendships, ground + build my strength, engage in artistic growth + knowledge and rest.
And lastly, my body and mind are simply not yet ready to go and I’m coming to deeply love this phase.
So here I am, not having fully forgiven my undefined boundaries of past and present, not fully in control of the rhythms I move to, not fully grasping what it looks like to be who I want to be. But I'll continue to listen for all there is to learn here. And, I want to practice being heard too – by myself and others.
I’ve been silent here for some time because I was listening. To a body that needed to be sad, a mind that needed to escape.
Through natural courses, I have moved from that space to this one. I worked at it of course, but never too much; help came to me when I needed it; the right questions came when I needed to hear them.
I was talking to a friend the other day about leaving this place. He said he wasn’t sure he’d ever know if it was the right thing. I told him I thought he would. That yes, it would be a choice and not one that could likely be expected to come easily or quickly.
But we must weigh things as we go.
Yoga in the morning or coffee with a friend, $100 towards a fitness membership or extra gas for a road trip, let the pain hurt or let it ease, a life here or life there. There is time for them all and choosing one over the other does not need to be forced, judged or feared, it just needs to be listened to.
Another friend was talking about dots. How we can only see the ones that are connected behind us. And in the spirit of rhythms I find these mysterious dots to be an apt metaphor. I imagine a series of footprints appearing in animation with no body attached.
They rove and stall and wiggle and we are the footprints.
Simultaneously unaware of where or how we’re moving, but we’re doing it. Invisible bodies imprinting on real earth, responding to energy that can be felt but not held.
I feel desperately called to get back to moving. Repetitively, intuitively, receptively, boldly. And let my inner artist and creator be heard, supported and seen.
Will you join??
