lay it down

And so I find myself here, barefeet in sand collecting pieces of myself.

I see it in the rocks, smooth and heavy in my hands. I toss one back.

I keep a pile, tucked within my palm, speaking to me. I keep walking — gently. Feeling each toe.

My heels, held, hugged by the wet sand.

I’m called to the water. I go. Fall to my knees, sinking into its warmth. I rise and flip and float. I disappear into its pulsing rhythm.

a pelican—

We’re flying, dancing with the waves.

I emerge whole—rock in hand.

a little note

I wrote this early November, sitting on the edge of the Pacific Ocean.

I was moment’s away from saying good-bye to a group of women I’d only met seven days prior at a transformative, weeklong yoga retreat in Troncones, Mexico

It’s impossible to predict the impact of women coming together, open, vulnerable, powerfully seeking their truths—and what force this has on one another. I am grateful to each of them, what they brought of themselves and willingly shared.

It felt as though we each came searching for answers our bodies already held. And gently, through movement and stillness we created the necessary space we each craved and reflected back in a way so personalized that each of us could see, feel, and deeply know what we needed to do. Now time will give us the space to act.

At dinner, that first day of our retreat, Nicole asked us to consider an intention for our physical bodies and our metaphysical ones. We were invited to share and it was beautiful how we did. Over the course of our time together, as we got to know each other, build trust and become friends, each of us eventually did share our intentions. On the last night, I shared mine, to #layitdown.

Long ago sports injuries, three babies and a touch of scoliosis means I have a slightly squinchy, short right side that tends to heedlesdly lead. Energetically the right side represents competitive energies. I’m ambitious and type A all the way. “Press pause,” “breathe” and “say less” have been personal mantras of mine for years, which tells you I still have work to do. My physical therapist works with me to let my right side relax, to let it lay down on the table and not hold it so tightly. That week in Troncones, after conversations with these women who were also seeking a version of themselves that felt more aligned, it clicked. I need to lay it down. To pause, do less, say less, to accept help, to ask for it. To be still long enough to call to mind what serves me and my higher purpose. To literally lay it down, physically, mentally, emotionally. And so I am.

Trying.