Making Sense
Sometimes we need rest sentences. Time to do something nourishing, calming or just innocuous. To give a part of ourselves the space to make sense of what we’re experiencing.
Sometimes we need rest sentences. Time to do something nourishing, calming or just innocuous. To give a part of ourselves the space to make sense of what we’re experiencing.
As the days get shorter and the nights get longer, our bodies beckon us toward slowing down, perhaps even hibernation. Yet, our culture encourages a frenetic level of activity—shopping, sharing, eating, decorating, celebrating. How might we reconcile these demands on ourselves?
The good news is that so many of our fall and winter holidays bring light into our dark season. It’s a season of so many mixed feelings. The joy of being with people we love; the sadness of missing those who can’t be with us; the contrast between the idealized holiday images and what we really experience.
The good news was that some of the long-buried seeds of long-forgotten native plants were bursting forth with new life. Some seeds only open up for new growth after a fire.
There’s a period of time for muddling through and wondering if you’ll ever get it. And then, at some magical point, it all makes sense. When it makes sense, it suddenly seems simple and obvious. How could I not see that before?
Sitting on the front porch this morning, there was a tiny bit of fall in the air. But my thoughts kept going back to western North Carolina.
We’re like that too. Flawed and beautiful. Worthy of taking up space on the planet. Worthy of taking a closer look, to find the brilliance. Worthy of taking some time for ourselves.
For millions of years, we humans have been making things with our hands. We transform materials to make objects that are functional and often beautiful. There’s something magical about the process. But it’s not just magical; it’s also essential to our well being. The things we make with our hands clothe us, feed us and shelter us.
The desired changes rarely happen overnight, and somewhere along the way, it feels like a slog.
Moshe Feldenkrais and Thomas Leonard each spoke about creating conditions that support leaning and growth. Feldenkrais used attention to movement, and Leonard used “conversations with a bit of wisdom thrown in.”
