A couple of months ago, someone told me a story about a group of people who sat down in the middle of a journey, and when asked why they weren’t moving, they said it was because they were waiting for their souls to catch up. Whoever told me this wasn’t sure of the exact details of the story and simply wanted to illustrate the beauty of a person pacing themselves in an embodied and anchored way. And as I come to my keyboard today, reflecting on that story and how fitting it is for the last couple of months, I’m realizing that in the blur of those months, I honestly can’t even remember who told me the story (if you’re reading this and it was you, please kindly remind me…!).
I’ve thought about hopping on here and sharing some thoughts for the last few weeks, and continually not happened. I love the freedom I’ve created in this space to write in stream-of-consciousness, letting myself spontaneously feel and express things in a way that’s therapeutic for me, and as a bonus, that others seem to enjoy (at least that’s what you tell me…!).
And while I could say that I haven’t really had margin these last couple of months to write — between travel, jet lag, getting sick, jumping back into a new term for my PhD, trying to enjoy a little fall break with Elijah, etc. — really, I think the main reason I haven’t written here is illustrated in that story: I’ve been waiting for my soul to catch up. And it’s been taking a lot longer than I thought it would.
As a kid, when my family moved to the Netherlands, we flew back and forth to the states each year. And then after that, for most years of my life, I flew back to Europe or another continent regularly. So when we planned to move to Scotland, I boldly thought this transition and distance wouldn’t feel like a lot for me. Turns out, I was very, very wrong.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m more connected with my body than I probably ever have been before.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m finally feeling depths of grief from previous moves that I never let myself feel before.
I don’t know if it’s because with age, I simply have less energy and bandwidth.
Or maybe it’s something else — or all the things and all the something elses…
Regardless, I’m noticing that I’m not “bouncing back” in the ways that I used to after travel, during jetlag, or post-sickness. I’m feeling that the whole of who I am simply needs more space, more breathing room, more recovery time. And while part of me is honestly annoyed by the inconveniences that brings to an already full schedule, and an already taxing task of caring for autoimmune issues each day, another part of me is curious about it.
I’m starting to wonder if in the past, when I would “bounce back” more quickly, if this was really a bouncing back, or if it was a sort of bypassing that neglected pieces of me that needed more time, more attunement, rest, or care. And if that’s the case, I can’t help but wonder if there’s almost been a trail of sorts, a trail of pieces of me that’s been left behind across years and decades, of the parts of me that I ignored or brushed past as I charged ahead, entirely unaware of the spaciousness I needed to honor the integrated whole of my being.
And now, as I’m tapping into spaciousness that (I’m realizing more and more!) is needed to be whole, it feels like each day and week there have been invitations to go down rabbit holes on that trail, finding and collecting pieces of myself, I’m starting to wonder: Maybe what I’m needing most right now isn’t time for my soul to catch up, maybe what I most need is to create space to collect the pieces of me, a process that can’t be forced or rushed, and may very well get in the way of the routine I had hoped to jump into this fall…
In one way, there as so many things I feel worlds behind on since coming back from my trip to the states in September/on the other side of my first book launch/as I’m stepping into year two of my PhD. And also, I don’t want to get up and keep moving if it means leaving any of me behind. I want to be and move forward wholeheartedly, and wholebodiedly… And while these two perspectives often feel at war with each other, more and more, I’m increasingly convinced that the latter has my heart.
While I could probably find a better way to land this plane, a load of laundry just finished that I’d like to fold before it wrinkles and before I need to be on my way to enjoy a walk on a pilgrim’s path with some friends… so I’ll land the plane here and leave you with this:
I’m curious, are there any parts of you that feel left behind that long to be gathered up and held with the whole of who you are? And if so, would you like to join me in honoring those pieces of yourself right now, even if all you have to offer today is the briefest of moments or the briefest of acknowledgments that you see them, and haven’t forgotten them?
A cave in Algarve, Portugal. In the whirlwind of these last couple months, I was grateful for some moments to slow down here with Elijah last month.
This is so wonderful. You've made me wonder the same things, and now, all I want to do it just take a day to rest with my body, move with my body, and just let myself “catch up”.