Reservoir of calm

For the better part of my thirties, the message I have been receiving and trying to synthesize into embodied knowledge is, “Slow down.” Massage school and my subsequent career shift started me on literally embodying my own personal deceleration. This has honestly been a difficult practice; I have an impatience that drives me to do things faster and louder, when in truth I can understand and be understood best when I embrace deliberate slowness.

My general goal has been to “meditate more,” and I have been trying to shape that into something more specific and possibly trackable. (As an ADHDer however, I am also open to the possibility that maybe chaos works best for this sort of thing; it’s an ongoing reflection of mine.) I am reading Jon Kabat-Zinn’s Full Catastrophe Living, which according to Wikipedia “describes the mindfulness-based stress reduction (MBSR) program developed at the University of Massachusetts Medical Center’s Stress Reduction Clinic.”

A rippling surface of water with rolling green hills in the background and a lightly clouded blue sky above
What does your inner calm space look like?

Like my meditation coaching certification program and the other meditation books I’ve collected, it offers recommendation for specific practices over the course of weeks, such as 15 minutes of focus on breathing, or 10 minutes of sitting practice. I am moving through these and learning lessons with each one, and I have the feeling this is building a deep reservoir of calm that I can tap into when I am doing any of my out-and-about quick meditations (such as a couple minutes of intentional breathing in public transit).

When I take an opportune moment to be present with myself and mindful of my environment, I can recall and reestablish the same peace I feel when breathing or sitting at home. I can almost feel time wind down and sit still with me, and that feels like a balm amidst all the external messaging to go faster and be more productive.

My breathing slows down. My heartbeat, which I can feel when I am still enough, slows down. Parts of my body start relaxing and only then do I notice how clenched they were (my jaw, my neck, my shoulders).

A calm surface of water at sunset, reflecting the partly clouded blue sky above, with clouds illuminated gold at the left and centre of the image. In the top left, the dark silhouette of tree branches
Sunset and early evening feel particularly primed for winding down and reflection.

I am officially launching a weekly online meditation practice that you are all invited to join on a pay what you can basis (and I will repeat loudly and often: there is no shame in selecting $0). All you need is a yoga mat and a journal, though you can also bring a little speaker to play relaxing or contemplative music; whatever bolsters and straps you need for movement support; and a candle or special object to let your gaze rest upon.

Here is a rough schedule of how the hour will unfold:

  • Greeting and gentle movement
  • Guided meditation on a weekly theme
  • Quiet journaling time (optionally, bring music conducive to reflection)
  • Optional sharing with the group

I plan to explore the imagery of tarot and oracle cards, the phases of the moon, the five elements of shiatsu and more! Participant suggestions will also be welcome. The first four dates are available for booking on my new Somatic Storytelling page!

Pride is for everyone and I celebrate all summer! Allies are welcome to use code PINKPURPLE for 40% off their massage booked by August 31st (except at my Concordia location; however Concordia students have access to a discounted rate).

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