the practice
seeking the beauty in the quiet moments
we continue to really be in summer over here; there is a permission given to relax and laugh and get outside and watch movies and rest and just be a little family together. i recently wrote this in an email, "time is flying by as i am finally sinking into living after so many months of survival mode. i didn't even realize i was still in it until i was out of it." it does feel like we are coming out of hiberation after months of worry and so so many doctor's appointments and how the list goes on. ellie continues to be doing great overall...growing...hopefully growing out of her other two heart issues. time will tell as always.
i have been thinking about this idea of how sometimes we don't even realize we are in survival mode until we are out of it. how the body and mind adjust to what must be done. how we protect ourselves in order to focus on what seems to be or is important. how my mind can distract me with its swirling, twirling ways. how this little grey with an apple on top box of wonder that holds worlds can distract me too. but then something will shift to quiet my mind. there will be a slowing down...a noticing...an invitation to be right here.
as i work on some current projects (including the i-am-so-excited-about-this content for emerge), i am observing how my practice of trying to be right here through photography and writing and creating in my studio and reading poetry and taking a breath or two or three has given me a map of sorts to get through the times of survival mode.
this idea of having a practice that you work with (as much as possible) daily means you practice on the good days where you have so much energy and your outlook is "hello world. bring it." it means you practice on the days when you stay in your pajamas and eat ice cream for breakfast. and again on the days when it rains and hails and when the sun shines so bright you have to leave the grumps behind. you practice on those usual sort of days so that when you suddenly encounter a day that finds you in a hospital or standing next to the phone after hearing something that has changed life forever or walking the path of grief and loss and sadness or even when you have just had a simple shift that confuses you or when something beautiful is going to take you on an adventure and you fear you will not find your way...
you practice so that when you encounter those "i have no idea where i am" sort of days, you will find a bit of light because you will see that hand in the darkness in the form of your practice. you will find light as you take a photo that captures the realness of a moment. you will find light as your write down every word that lives inside your fear. you will find light inside a poem written by someone else from another time who pushes you to know you are not alone. you will find light inside sitting in the quiet and letting the space around your heart grow with each breath.
you practice to begin to notice the beauty, the joy, the truth that is (always) there.
you practice to find the light.
you practice.
you practice.
the practice in real
Reader Comments (7)
God. This hit me in the stomach and I began to cry. I feel myself coming out of survival mode, and out of survival mode is where all the pain waits, where it's been waiting all this time, and I feel myself move back into survival. I have been baby stepping for months.
nice one for today as I sit in my pj's at 2 pm eating peanut butter out of the jar after counting how many times I stirred it and wondering if today I will speak a word to anyone besides my dog ...nice one indeed . survival mode . it will pass i suppose ....breathing . breathing.
There is so much light to be had here! And I completely related on a cellular level to not knowing we're in survival mode until it becomes past tense. Until we've *survived* it. You are holding up like a champion, lady. And inspiring so many, even while in your protective modes. xo
I am desperately trying to come out of survival mode but I believe my endorphins are hooked on it and my body and soul are still black and blue from the beating I took in my past life. It is a daily struggle to peak my head out from under the covers to see what the world has to offer. I am so happy right now to be in my womb/bed where nothing bad ever happens and I don't have to solve the world problems. I still wait for the labor pains to come that will push me back out into a world where life begins anew. I understand you!
thank you, the very words on the very day that I needed to read them.
Liz! I am planning for my next retreat to be all about "creative practices" and their power in our lives. Just happened (!) to come over here and read this today. With your permission, I would like to copy this post and maybe use all or part of it, giving you credit of course! Let me know, because as always, I love your words and the volumes they speak 8)
XOX
hi liz, what a beautiful picture & great post. gives me a lot to think about. my yoga practice was there for me when six years ago (on friday) my sister was killed. i always thought it would be my church but not so much. yoga, meditation & breath/body work has been my constant, my rock, my method of getting out of survival mode if only for an hour. your words rang true that we practice today for what could happen tomorrow. we (i) may not consciously think that, but it's true. thank you for that reminder. blessings & peace to you & your little family!! xo alane