to love the questions… because, this is your life.

One of my most beloved writer women friends wrote the following yesterday, and I cannot help but share:

*all copyrights reserved to Isabel Faith Abbott  http://www.isabelabbott.com/

“things are grief intense and ripped wide open right now, personally and collectively, publicly and privately. words fail. intention sits there stammering, and finally it is just the body collapsed into another body, the hand wrapped around another hand that is the only thing that makes sense.

in times of grief, or trauma, losses and very real fear, when our bodies and hearts are bruised and shaken, it becomes even more important to be our own good friend. to go slowly, and tend to self-care, to nourish ourselves and nurture, so we might be well held in our own being, strengthened in the living.

so that’s what i’ve been doing.
showing up and going slowly and taking good care.
right now this looks like:

* walking by the lake every morning. watching water change moods and colors. sharing the quiet with fellow travelers. being with and breathing deep the space.

* a deep tissue massage my friend sent me to, and how needed it was, to lay there relaxed and receiving rest.

* walking last night with kvv for drinks and one of the people in our community who does not have a home, stopping and asking for money for food. and not having cash, just the bank card, so asking if he wants to go with us to the closest restaurant and we’ll buy him something to eat. and he says yes, and so we all walk together for a bit, and he tells us about serving in the military and how long its been since he returned home and nothing was the same, and then we walk into the deli and go to stand in line, and the man in front of us at the counter says, “please add whatever this gentleman is ordering to my bill because i’m paying for him too.” and our new friend starts laughing and almost crying. and the man in front of us says,”this here is a vet and so is my dad.” and then the four of us sort of stand there for these moments, aware that a meal is not the answer to any of the worlds problems but it also means something, and there was eye contact and silent smiles and it is true, that we are fed in feeding.

* going to water my little raised garden plot everyday. the grounding of repetition, of something that needs to be cared for, and how in caring for it, i learn to tend to my own hunger and need.

* sleeping when the body is tired, and not fighting with it or trying to tell myself to plow through. just stopping, and sleeping.

* sorting through things. letting go. lightening, and the freedom of knowing how to say thank you, and release. releasing books and clothes i no longer need or wear, the relationships where you realize if you don’t reach out and connect, neither do they, and you suddenly understand you want your close circle to be with those with easy intimacy and shared showing up. stacks of papers and the contents of closets and the fears of rejection and things that no longer need to be carried and so you simply set them down.

* making art from old x-rays.

* eating peaches with cold sweet cream slashed and spilled over top.

* watching transparent on the couch, legs strewn over one another, heat and fans and cold beer.

* kissing bare shoulders.

* dancing. and dancing. and dancing. the body in movement and motion. the body in wails and rage and glorious fervor. the body in slink and sway and sweet ecstatic dance.

* reading. in bed. on the el. on my back fire escape steps. on the hard wood floor, standing up at the kitchen counter, sipping coffee.

* gold strap wedge sandals. and drinks served in copper cups. and choosing to not force decision and just stay right here where i am.

* holding vigil through the night. holding in the light.

how are you taking care of yourself?
how are you feeding yourself?
how are you making yourself a home inside yourself?”

*all copyrights reserved to Isabel Faith Abbott  http://www.isabelabbott.com/

and http://listsandletters.com/

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