Summer heat waves.
Wildfire smoke.
Late nights, early mornings.
The never-ending to-do’s.
I am tired. I can barely drag myself out of bed in the morning and conjure up a snack for the toddler. It takes all of me to pour a cup of coffee that I can barely even sip.
I slowly gain speed through the morning, hitting dips of lethargy and then wondrous moments of energy that are notable due to their rarity. Like how I rally to make breakfast or get out the door for an errand or adventure. I feel like a heavy, water-logged and sunken canoe.
So far, it seems like some of the most nourishing moments are those spent at the river. We pack snacks and gear up in the cart and find a nice spot with a sandy beach and plenty of rocks to toss. I dunk myself into the cold waters and the little one wades and keeps testing how close he can throw the biggest rocks.
When I dunk myself in the water, it wakes me up and clears away the stagnant energy. It makes me feel supple and young again. I feel connected to source, a timeless giving energy. When I dunk myself, I ask the river to take away my worries, my illness, my fatigue. I feel embraced by the river banks, the grasses and willows and sand and wind.
Being in nature, the more untouched and wild bits, is rejuvenating. It resets something in my brain and soul. Even though I’m still tired, I don’t feel as heavy. I feel purified.
And of course, the river is great because it’s a perfect playmate. It tuckers the little one out for nap time. And then I can escape to the basement and find my way to embodied play and exploration. I often only dance for 10-20 minutes, the latter being more rare and exceptional.
Lately, my body pulls me downward and I’m trying to dance the dance of air, of levity, of wakefulness. Grace feels far from me as I lumber and heave myself through space seeking respite from gravity. This postpartum mom bod is heavy. I love her, me, that is. I do by best to take care of myself through remembering to eat or trying to do vigorous dance videos or yoga flows on youtube in the living room.
But, the play and practice in the basement brings me somewhere the youtube exercise videos cannot. It brings me into the wild nature of my own animal body and allows me the spaciousness to practice letting it be how it pleases. Like a cat that stretches and plays when the time feels right, I expand and contract exploring movement that fills the corners and crevices of my being.
How often do we leave whole zones of our body out-of-touch? How tender it is to notice and fill the space with presence. I lend these places my compassion, my witnessing. “I see you, let me hold you close”.
Sometimes, this dance feels like taking myself by the hand and unconditionally loving all the little bits of myself. The invisible, the uncomfortable, the ashamed, the tender places of fresh growth.
These little moments, at the river, in the basement, on walks to the park, sitting out front eating homemade popsicles: life-giving. I aim for them, seek them out, magnetize my awareness to the fleeting glimmers. Each one an opportunity to arrive anew.
Ephemeral Movement 