If being on the road for a year has taught me anything (and it’s taught me A LOT – so much I’m still processing) it’s that multiple truths can exist at once.
On the road, there is so much freedom AND I miss my home in Chicago like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
I love the simplicity of only having a few pieces of clothes to wear, and traveling with only what fits in our car. AND as soon as I opened up some boxes and saw pieces of pottery, my own coffee mugs, and the clothes I packed away, I remembered why I love the feeling of coming “home.”
When I’m back visiting Chicago, I can’t get enough of the city. I love its energy, but way more than that I love the people there. AND it takes so much energy to exist in a world of go-go-go, every time I leave Chicago and I feel a pang of sadness to be getting on a plane, I also feel the need to retreat because it is so exhausting.
Multiple truths, all existing at once.
I’ve noticed these dualities, little examples like these, throughout our time trekking across the country. I’ve become more aware of how complex we are, and how unique our needs are. Even within a day, the way I feel about traveling and teaching entirely online shifts from being ALL about it to wanting NOTHING to do with it in the blink of an eye.
The important thing I remember amidst these complexities of how life deals us cards and the ways in which we choose to play them each day is that I have the choice to fall apart within the chaos or to remain steady and wait for the storm to pass. I choose the latter. And I have to choose it, and choose it again, every day.
For me, it doesn’t mean shutting down or turning away from the problems I face in my daily life or leaning into how I can show up for communities around me who need more voices. It means quite the opposite. It means I’m working on holding multiple truths at once; that consistency in action is required for lasting change, but consistency cannot be achieved without adequate rest. Without allowing my nervous system to find it’s way back to homeostasis.
It’s yet another reason my movement practice is invaluable to me. And why the practice has evolved – and expanded – into more than movement for my body. When I set foot onto my mat or step into the gym I know it’s going to be a chance to get my heart rate up and sweat. But I know – even before the workout begins – why I’m there. Ultimately, it’s to slow the pace of my racing brain and to think more conscious thoughts. To be able to watch what occurs and to choose how I want to move forward.
In the workout setting, that might mean going for one less set of reps than intended because my grip is fatigued. Outside of the workout, it’s becoming more aware of how I respond to the inputs around me. Like what someone says while cutting me off in traffic, or what story I create from the words in an email written to me when I don’t totally know the context.
It’s helpful for me to remind myself that we are complex beings and we are all holding multiple truths. Nobody and nothing is of a singular dimension. And I need only to slow down and pay attention to what’s going on inside for me to be able to really feel that.
I wanted to share a slow flow movement practice that’s helped me recently – a yin-style practice with a bit of myofascial release and acupressure point exploration.
Breathe easy today. Give yourself grace. You, too, need to take care of you.