tending to a neglected body.
on practicing presence
🎧 Have you listened to the newest episode of my podcast Sheer Creativity? I speak with writer, teacher, and founder of Softer Sounds podcast studio
about her journey of building a successful business without social media. As creatives, we don’t have much representation of people creating outside of social platforms, and we’re endlessly told that in order to be visible and noticed, we have to be present on social media. Hruby and I dispel those myths, diving into her journey leaving social media. If you feel disillusioned by social media like I do, Amelia’s episode is for you. Available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and other major platforms.The podcast has taken an unexpected hiatus due to reasons I’ll share here soon, once I find the words. I’ll be back 🧡
I grant pieces of peace to a body
that yearns for rest,
to eyes that have seen their fair share of sleepless nights.
what am I awake for?
what worries can I dissolve from my bed,
and how can I solve them with low energy?
our bodies were never meant for society’s grind,
for a hustle that promises anguish instead of success,
and my body is under stress.
we carry pressure to stay happily alive,
battling insecurities along with mental health pains.
I must remind myself
what seems idle to some is a battlefield for others,
I can be a warrior fighting from my bed,
straining to attempt to shield myself from my own anxious mind,
so I learned over time how to bury myself
in tasks,
and call it reasonable,
bending to my own ideals of what is deserved.
I still don’t understand grace,
and I’m praying for the strength to surrender
what I think I should be doing
and welcome the rest I crave.
I love discovering something I wrote several years ago, like this “poem” above. I don’t know if this actually counts as a poem. It’s more so a thought on rest, and even though years have passed since I wrote these thoughts, rest is still a foreign concept.
I’ve been intentional about slowing down during the first quarter of this year. I’m slower to write this newsletter now. Instead of pushing and pressuring myself to create an insightful piece on a weekly basis, despite a lack of inspiration, I allow myself to dwell in my thoughts.
It honestly feels agonizing.
On the one hand, this slower pace gives birth to creations that feel more meaningful and meticulous. I spend my time carving each phrase into stone like a sculptor, gifting myself the freedom to play around with concepts and chisel deeper into the different sides of my being. I lean more into my comedic personality, and I connect with the emotions I haven’t given the space to explore or understand.
But I also despise any type of slow, steady pace, no matter the scenario. A slow walker in the grocery store blocking my pursuit of white cheddar popcorn fills my being with frustration. When it comes to my creativity, I’m just as strict. When the words don’t flow freely on my page, I’m instantly angry with myself. Now that I’m taking Toni Morrison’s infamous advice to keep words blocked until they’re ready to be released, I find that there’s a sea of language that I have disregarded in exchange for productivity and movement, because resting in that forgotten tongue seems synonymous with staying stagnant.
I hate wading in the immense ocean of my thoughts when I feel inclined to pull a Michael Phelps Olympic performance. Even as I write this, my anxious response is to complete a perfect post in one evening by 11:59 pm like a neglected college assignment instead of a joyous practice. As much as I love creating, I struggle to maintain love for my words versus an obligation to my machine of a body that prides itself on productivity. I don’t enjoy sitting on my ideas, which is a blessing in dreaming creations but a curse in caring for myself.
In slowing down, I’m hoping to silence my strong inner critic and listen to my body’s responses to my work. I’m taking a page out of Marie Kondo’s book and asking of everything I practice, “Do you bring me joy?” And it seems to be a difficult question to ask myself when it shouldn’t be. It’s embarrassing to say that I honestly don’t know my body too well, even after nearly 25 years of being its inhabitant.
Do you have gratitude for your body?
I took a self-care assessment and found myself perplexed by my lack of knowledge of my body’s needs. The questions asked about basic bodily functions, including whether my breath fills my belly on each inhale, and if my body reacts to different foods in varying ways. Can I identify how my physical environment affects my body? Do I have gratitude for this body?
The results of the assessment said that I could focus on “tapping into the power of the present moment” because “being present allows you to access your inner wisdom.” What does it feel like to be fully present in a moment? I love being present in community. I love attending poetry slams and snapping with an audience to marvelous work. I live for car rides with my best friends, listening to a throwback song that I had forgotten since the last time we all saw each other. I like thinking of fun moments with my family where I didn’t reminiscence on the issues I seemingly dwell on day by day. Those are the moments in which I don’t struggle to be present.
Admittedly, I ignore moments of individual presence. The assessment asked me to find time each day for mindful presence.
“Maintain a single pointed focus on the task at hand. Don't listen to music or a podcast in the background. Don't multitask. Let it be all-consuming.”
The silence is deafening, the realization that I have spent time actively working to not listen to myself. My body has now adjusted to being ignored, operating on a lack of sleep and a lack of emotional release. I’ve never been a frequent crier, but when I was younger, I’d look in the mirror afterward and believe I resembled a panda bear. Blush pink circles would outline my eyes like the black circles around a cub. Whenever I feel the urge to cry now, my tear ducts have determined how much liquid is allowed to escape. After a few tears fall, my face remains stoic, unable to release the emotions I’ve long cast aside. There never seems to be a moment in my schedule to fall apart.
Ironically if you research panda bears, you’ll learn that they are actually slow-moving animals that only use their energy when necessary. I think it’s time to return to that state within myself, exerting my energy nurturing these abandoned emotions and thoughts. I don’t want my body to become acclimated to shedding only a few tears just to push ahead.
I guess I’m writing this to remind myself (and you too) that I need to fall apart for my body to put itself back together in a way that embodies kindness instead of pressure. If my creations slow down, it only means that my final results will be honest and original, and I believe my creativity deserves my authentic being.
What does Laraya like this week?
🎵 In the spirit of slowing down, I’ve been replaying the Chapters album by Yuna, one of my favorite international artists. Her work is underrated and unique, with a smooth, beautiful voice that cajoles you into relaxation.
I also want to hear what you think this week! Take the self-care assessment; I’d love to know your takeaways. Have a great week 🧡
Such a beautiful reflection, Laraya! 🩵