The gift of the Quarantine

Today I needed a softer place to land.
I needed to take it inside to feel the places where the breath goes.
Everything was becoming heavy- clouded- murky with not enough space to think. I was letting it all in even what was not mine.
Even still, I needed to pull out more of what was mine and what cannot stay within me as the fear infiltrating my corner of the world triggered what felt like a shit storm inside.
When it speaks… when it comes on like a hot stove, I seek to understand it so I crawled inside of it…
breathed light into it.
With the intention to let it go.
To just to let it all go.
No matter how long I had to sit there inside of it feeling the weighted vest of it all.
The worlds weight and mine— resting on my shoulders and in my chest.

Heavy.
So I went to the mat at 3:37 on a Friday
To sit.
To breathe.
To grieve.
To feel these parts that never had much of a voice.
Today, I wanted to meet them with the compassion and understanding they never received from me because I never fully understood how this works.
I didn’t understand what it means to heal or know that I needed to love it out my existence.
And there they stood, on their last leg
Still barely there.
Just waiting for the acknowledgement—
The signal.
Waiting for the touch of grace, from my palms— to say, it’s ok that you exist.
I needed you, before.
But it’s ok now, that you go.
And each and every time I do that… I return pieces of my soul back to itself.
I continue to open more
As the cracks mend.
One breath at a time.
On the mat, from my living room floor.
The gift of the quarantine— our chance to come home to ourselves, one day and one breath at a time.

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