Remembering my ground

I figured it out the other morning.

I still couldn’t focus on reading. So instead, I opened my Commune app, which I hadn’t thought about for months, and started looking at one of the courses I did last January—Danielle LaPorte’s “Desire Map.” It prompted me to start thumbing through the pages in my journal, where I’d been diligently working through all of the exercises in the course, until one day, for a reason I can’t remember, I stopped.

As I flipped from page to page, it was like going through a time warp…except it was more of an embodiment warp. I was instantly transported back to a period of time where I was deeply entrenched in self-discovery. The pages were heavy with emotions but light with promise. I had spent hours contemplating feelings and words, desires and dreams. I had connected with my senses. Reading my own writing was like looking in the mirror and seeing a different reflection, one that reminded me of how good it can feel when I actually come back to myself.

That’s what I’ve been missing these last few months. Or if I’m honest, it’s probably been longer than that.

I haven’t been embodied. I’ve been missing ME.

I haven’t been taking the time I need to come back to my center, to my ground.

I’ve been so focused on external demands, like fixing problems at work, taking more classes, reading more books, scheduling playdates and doctors’ appointments, even working through things in couple’s therapy, that I’ve been neglecting my internal demands.

They’re pretty simple, really.

Breathe.

Be still.

Listen.

Turn inward.

I don’t think I was actively avoiding any of this, although my subconscious may disagree. On the surface, anyway, it seems like I was so swept up in doing and accomplishing that I “forgot” what I needed to feel whole and aligned.

In those first few moments of finding my journal the other morning, and running my hands against the indents in the pages from my pen, I came back into my body. I felt my muscles loosen and my lungs exhale in an avalanche of letting go. I was able to pick up right where I left off 11 months ago, sliding back into my senses and my words. This hyper-tuned-in state only lasted for a couple of minutes, but it was enough to know that I can’t keep putting myself on hold.

I don’t want to miss myself anymore. There’s so much more of me I’ve yet to meet.