Resting in Resistance

We are in delicate times.

I feel the grief of the collective.

Anger over injustice. Rage at the hypocrisy of industry leaders and politicians. And regular people who don’t acknowledge the truth of what is happening.

The destruction of our world, and the moral fabric of society. The complete and utter lack of integrity.

My blood boils, yet I am shivering and cold. My brain won’t cooperate. My body contracts.

A clenched jaw, a lump in the throat. Hips holding tight to strong sensations. Weighted lungs that prevent the fullness of a breath, and thus the fullness of life.

Heavy tears well up in eye sockets and fall in slow motion onto my yoga mat. Each landing with a thud, splattering in a thousand directions.

Grief. Sorrow. Despair. Anger. Fear.

The energy swirling. Out of balance. Disconnected.

I am separated from myself.

This is not me.

I am not here.

I am locked out. Disconnected from my purpose and from my truth.

Homeless.

This is the energy of grief. Of transitions.

We are in delicate times.

Grounding on my mat, eyes closed, I meet it all in a loving embrace.

Resting in resistance.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Over and over.

With every in-breath, welcoming it in.

You belong here.

With every exhale, letting go of something to create space for what’s here.

I release.

Feeling the breath, in slow simple strides.

Finding comfort in the consistency of the cycles and in the constant of change.

Finding safety in the stillness of surrender.

With each round of breath, a small release, an energetic shift. With each breath, a new opening invites me to sink more deeply into presence.

Slowly, the body lets me back in.

And I arrive, home.