Moved & Moving
transitions are constant
“You are the sky. Everything else - it’s just the weather.” - Pema Chödrön
Photo of Lake Radnor State Park, Nashville.
It has been awhile since I have had some time to share here. Space and time are such a luxury most days. I have much more of it with my daughter here in TN, but less of it for myself. Both are needed and wanted and I’m trying to soften the squeeze that feels constrictive in this new life phase of changing routines. Through my own inner healing and integration of myself, I have found that a spacious life is truly a gift. I remember my sister-in-law, Devin, unknowingly introducing me to this concept years ago. She would often say “let’s do what feels spacious” when we would try to make plans or spend time together at holidays. I was a bit baffled wondering “why do you need so much space between our morning walk and pancakes”. Ha! But I think her point was that having some padding between plans (even walking and breakfast) would allow for more presence, connection and less anxiety about the future destination and rushing to get there. And now, I wholeheartedly get it. I like the roomy padding. Where am I rushing to? It’s all right here.
It is Saturday and I am currently taking a much needed day at home, in bed, reading, writing, praying, resting, reflecting. It’s 2pm and I’m not rushing anywhere. This is the slowness and uncoiling my body and soul long for and have for as long as I can remember. (Part of why we left Los Angeles). How much guilt do you feel when you take a day that’s just for your own unwinding? Our fast-paced culture is one to encourage going, doing, producing, creating, engaging. I don’t buy into that proposition anymore. I need to draw the curtains and take respite. We all need those days to linger in ourselves, it’s pure, available medicine. Meandering about in our sweatpants from the kitchen to the bed to the porch to the sofa to the trees back to bed. I feel my nervous system thank me and my senses come back into rhythm. My family thanks me, too, as I’m better for them when I’m better for me.
August and September were transition months and I have been finding Nashville quite intriguing. The novelty hasn’t worn off. Everyday, I discover an unfamiliar plant or a new train whistle or a cute coffee shop or a Southern accent that has a different twang to it. The awe of it all has been emotionally moving. The transition we are in is holding us with a quickening affirmation that we belong here in this moment in time. And now, well into October, I’m realizing that the days turn into months, the months turn into years. And they are all a series of transitions. Not because we are all making cross country moves but because we are simply exiting something old and entering something new with each passing breath. Even if it is simply our own calendar cross-outs. There will never be any moment that exists more than that one instance. That recognition both incites subtle grief and beautiful possibilities. And calls me back into presence when I drift off. Accepting that transitions are a natural part of existence helps us navigate change with resilience and grace.
Most days ask for some sort of grounding but often I don’t listen because the noise of the tasks lure me into participation. And it can be any old task, even flossing my teeth or googling “best croissant in Nashville”. As I start to work with “the weather” of my life (to quote Pema), I notice I’m quite susceptible to my ADD tendency to stay flitting about making myself feel productive. The quieter more embodied voice asks me to sit still and witness myself. To not react to the frequency of the storm that looms about. To get curious. Do I need to do that thing? Or do I want to? How much time do I have and what is the best and highest use of it? The simple act of pausing can be such a revolutionary and evolutionary act. Grounding doesn’t always need to be putting my bare feet in the earth or laying under a tree or driving out to the water. It can simply be to anchor myself to my breath. Pulling my attention off the external and going inward, allowing whatever comes up to be noticed and honored. Laying flat on the floor and letting my weight sink into gravity’s gift. Closing my eyes and placing one hand on my belly and one on my heart. I’ll often make some tea or an herbal infusion to bring my body into warmth and reconnection. Holding one of my rocks or crystals in my palm or placing it in my pocket. All of these techniques take little time, little money, and can be done anywhere when I need them. They are my supportive allies for bringing me back to my center.
It’s now Tuesday and we close on our new house today! We found a sweet ranch house on 1.2 acres out in Kingston Springs. About 20-30 mins from town, (I love saying I’m going to town). I am very excited to make it our home and welcome friends, family, new animals, clients and group circles in 2025. Stay tuned for more.
In the next couple weeks, I have some wonderful interviews with dear friends and inspiring teachers. I’ll be sharing them here and hope they inspire and resonate for you. Today, I’m leaving you with a song to put on when you can take a moment to yourself. Stay open to the awe that’s all around you. I love you. - Paige
