I had my sensory awareness check-in with Lee this evening. I was agitated over writing letters to my three representatives, and was not as calm as I might have chosen to be when she called, and yet, the point is to meet the moment and what it needs, to know what is enough. As I spoke with her, I saw that I was beating myself up about not doing my "homework" well enough, and not being "aware" as often as I would prefer. I kept digging the hole bigger and deeper as I spoke. My language to myself was harsh.
Now I sit with simple questions.
What is the need?
What is the struggle?
What am I wanting?
We can't get rid of something until we know what it is. We have to invite discomfort in, chat with it, and then, bid it on its way.
I sit here and explore with curiosity. I am with the breath as it comes.
What does this moment ask of me?
I am committed to sitting for 30 seconds after I get in my car before I start it, sitting and waiting until I am greeted by breath. How does that 30 seconds affect my drive, my day?
Try it, and see.
I sit now and lift one leg from the floor, and place my foot back down. What is meeting under me? How much depth is there in my foot, from the part on the floor to the top of the arch? Is there resting possible in landing, or does one foot go down, and, without a pause, the other foot come up? What happens in breathing as I move first one foot and leg, and then, the other?
What happens if I stop typing, and twirl my chair around?
When I notice tightness, or discomfort, can I pause and be interested in what is happening without trying to change it or judge it?
Small steps, and the diaphragm floats up and down, a jellyfish.