#whatyoucannotsee

Another cloudy morning and I’m making my own sunshine here in my body. #whatyoucannotsee: how sweet, simple movements are grounding me. How winding my way through all of the joints in my body gives me a deeper sense and sensation of my whole, body. As a whole, system. Moving, breathing, together, everyone heard and accounted for, everyone seen and valued. You can’t see how my eyes popped open when I remembered something that needed to be done, and how I laughed at how instantaneously my mind had left my body here by itself on the floor. It happens that fast. You cannot see how full this day-to-come feels, and how that brings a habitual edge of overwhelm, until I remember it contains work and play - until I remember how I planned it that way, clients, friends, movement, time outside and right now, time with myself.

2/#40daysofstillness The floors are cold & blankets help, so does a warm beanbag on my belly. I settle in, but it takes a few minutes before I notice I’ve lost myself in thinking - or maybe I never stopped; I notice the holding in my jaw first, the thinking next, and ask, what’s here right now? Softening jaw, warm belly, the dryer tumbling, the soft fabric of my shirt on my skin, the curl of my right fingers, which feel almost closed. The dryer stops and I notice the hiss of the sleet outside the window. The narration continues, my verbal processing is a strong pattern - at least, I tell myself, it’s directed towards what’s happening now instead of my imaginings. Not that imaginings are bad - not that thinking is bad - we need these functions of mind, and this time, is for rest. Because all that thinking, it can also be exhausting - and if I’m to use my mind well, it needs rest as much as my body does. Because it’s pertinent: #whatyoucannotsee are the boxes and bins and blankets stacked on both sides of me - progress yielded this clear bit of floor, and that felt so soothing. Baby steps. For rest and for getting settled in - both are so needed and nourishing right now, and worth taking my sweet time.

How to heal a hip: REST. Move slowly, gently. Be tender, loving toward what is hurting, gather it close. Ask the body, what needs support, and what needs softness? Where is space needed, and where strength? Ask, what feels *good*? Consult trusted healers but do not ignore internal wisdom. Look for patterns, seek understanding. Observe sensation. Hold thoughts, fears, optimism, plans lightly. Feel grateful for what is still here, because eventually, all of it will be lost. Enjoy what is here, now. (More specifically, how to heal *my* hip. More generally, how to *heal*: tissues, hearts, selves, communities, cultures maybe even.) #iampracticing #whatyoucannotsee

What you cannot see: My worry over a hip injury this week - the special sort of anxiety that comes from depending so fully on my body for my work - and my relief and gratitude that the inflammation seems to be quickly calming. The amount of time and energy it can take to physically reorient when my body forces me to do so. ((Mad love and compassion to those who live with pain daily - I like to think of myself as a toughie... and, well, the stories I tell myself may be true in moments - but when held dearly they have varying degrees of truth and varying degrees of usefulness. Practice is where I get to observe and explore the actual, constantly evolving and underlying final truth of who I am)). You can't see the time spent in grimacing-but-also-nerdily-gleeful deep dives of anatomical, sensory, and somatic study that result from discomfort in my body and using it as a learning lab. You can't see the number of propped seated variations I tried this week before arriving at this specific height and configuration. You can't see the spinning and quickly changing circumstances of my work and my businesses and my life, which made this stillness this morning feel anything but. You can't see my delight and awe in getting to experience my hearts work from the other side today as a client in @durhambodywork's community massage clinic, nor my gratitude for this incredible growing community. You also can't see my joy in the opportunity to revisit and discuss and learn more with new eyes with @108yogalove and a timely pranayama and restorative intensive. This practice. Whatever form it takes - it's the window frame. I'm here, still, again, looking out & in, and learning. #iampracticing #whatyoucannotsee

I am feeling the tension between so many poles: desire for open space and gratitude for everything that is filling it. The more assertive, dynamic parts of my nature, and the receptive, magnetic ones. My shadows and virtues, two sides of a coin, darkness and light. A recent awareness that making space for others depends on standing strongly in my own. This day, equal parts day and night. My ribs, which waffle between reaching forward and caving in. Rather than being about my side body, this pose, in this moment, is about balance: the place where the poles come together, my ribs remembering that they are a part of my body, welcome and wanted, a necessary fullness within the whole, without which this system cannot function. I'm looking for a more conscious relationship between all of these current poles. Although my mind doubts that true balance can ever be achieved as a steady state, my body has felt experiences of it - however momentary. I sense my ribs settling in, supportive and supported, my head easily falling in line. Balance feels both dynamic and peaceful, a generative place between the poles, and a worthy goal, if ever elusive. Happy equinox, friends, happy Libra birthdays. May we all find more moments of balance. #iampracticing #whatyoucannotsee #latergram

It has been a long time since I've shared one of these. #Whatyoucannotsee: all the reasons why it's been so long; all the ways my practice has changed and still sustains me; the confluence this week of anniversaries and loss, memories and new moments, overwhelm and relief, firsts and lasts for me and for people I love; the ever-growing task list of a new job and a new business that are each getting harder & more necessary to contain; this paradox always - joy and grief, no one without the other, partners. You cannot see the chorus of sensation that calls me back from my mind's endless narration of so much emotion, so much life, so I that I can be *in* it more. Right here. For myself. For my loved ones. For the experience. The body is the doorway. With its help, I can be here. #iampracticing