allowing
Life update: We bought a house and moved in this week. It's a milestone for us, filled with excitement and a multitude of emotions. While it's something we've desired for a long time—a place to call our own, a home we own—it's also a complex transition. As we packed up our belongings, I couldn't help but notice the conveniences we were leaving behind, like the ease of renting in a new building. Our new place needs some fixing up, and it's located a bit further from the city center. In exchange, we gain easy access to nature and trails. The financial aspect also gave us pause: did we really just spend this much money? Money we've diligently saved for years for this very moment? Wait, is this really what we want?
Reflecting on these changes, I started to feel a little scared. A little sad. Uncertain.
Any change—moving, starting a new job, even getting a haircut—can stir up complex feelings. In moments of change, we often come to realize what we had. Acknowledging the loss can be a healthy part of the process. Or as my therapist suggested: take some time to acknowledge what we are losing and what we loved. In doing so, we can honor what we’ve experienced and create an opportunity to process. This allows our body and mind to relax into the present, where our authentic desires can emerge.
As I moved boxes from my former home to my new home and began to unpack, I allowed myself to appreciate the things I had loved about our last place. By acknowledging what I was leaving, I didn’t feel the need to recreate it in the new home. Instead, I discovered new places for my things, sometimes pleasantly surprised in the way that they made sense in my new space. I felt moments of excitement and twinkles of delight in my body.
The body is a dynamic place to inhabit, and reminds us of both our power and our fragility.
For me, a movement practice is a metaphor and a microcosm for the movement our lives, our networks, our place in the universe.
How many times have I started my practice limited by expectations rooted in what I knew of my past?
How many times have I started my practice only to discover a restriction, challenge, or pain that wasn’t there before?
How often have I tried to blow past the discomfort?
What deeper beliefs might these challenges point to, waiting to be acknowledged and healed?
By allowing my experiences in my practice to simply be, without the need to magnify or diminish them, I learn to be present with my own journey. In doing so, I may find a new way to be at home in my own body, and thus at home in my place with others. And although there are big things happening in the world, I still believe that it’s not trivial to spend time working on ourselves. Our practice on the mat feeds our practice walking this earth.
