Lay your body down

giving into a summer pause

The ceiling fan whirs, a jackhammer roars in the distance, a silent, soft kitty nearby. I’m post-shower, post-bike ride, post- and pre-socializing. It’s 4pm, the air is thick and warm in my attic apartment. No blankets needed. Any clothing I put on is just out of habit. I set an alarm, knowing myself, knowing I could stay here for a very long time, but I have somewhere I’d like to go later, and a full night of sleep I’d like to have after that. 

I think I hit a level of sleep. Mind softens, psyche expands. My body is heavy, a sandbag of matter melding with my bed. An eternal moment, a peace portal. There’s a remembering. It’s always here, beneath it all.  

My alarm sounds, body flutters. I linger. There isn’t any rush. I am hungry. Somewhere inside me is the desire to move and connect and dance with the world again. I slosh my body around and eventually out of my bed, into waking life. 

bodies resting together at our Sojourn last month | photo by beloved Sara Liptow

Staying low to the ground has felt so necessary at times this summer. With smokey skies in the midwest this past month, intuitively, staying low feels like survival. Beneath the heat and pollutant. Don’t work so hard, be gentle with yourself.

Summer is thick. Dense with activity, change, socializing, sun, growth, noise, fireworks, violence, celebration, festivals, travel.

Rest is just beneath the busyness and chaos. The physical laying down of my body brings me in touch with this truth. Something similar, too, for my mind. What does it feel like to lay down the heaviness in heart and mind? I feel its density dissipate, if even just for a moment, in the tiniest of ways.

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I am approaching a big move and shift in my life which has me reflecting on what I need to lay down here IN DEEP SHIFT. Writing and sharing publicly has been a wild transformative ride, and has become an important part of my creative practice. I’m not yet quite sure what needs to compost, as I feel into the nuance and possibility of change and endings. 

But what I do know for sure is how grateful I am that you’ve jumped into deep shit and many shifts with me here. Your attention is so precious, and to share some of it with me here is a gift I do not take for granted! Thank you for reading, for being in conversation with me digitally and in the flesh, and for supporting this newsletter with paid subscriptions.

I’ll be pausing paid subscriptions, giving myself space to pause and see who I am on the other side. 

May your summer be joyous, restful, wild and sweet.

with so much gratitude,

em