One way to make it through this

It all hit me Sunday Morning.

The true depth and scope of what our world is going through.

Meryl and I temporarily closed our studio, Sacred Chill {West} two weeks ago now and I have been operating in entrepreneurial mama survival beast mode this whole time. In some ways, working is a distraction from truly realizing just where we collectively are. I've been laser focused on what I can do to ensure my son continues to thrive, learn, and grow and sustain Sacred Chill {West}, a beloved community that was born only a few months after my son.

Every single day, I dance/crawl/stumble/stomp through hope, faith, compassion, exhaustion, misery, defeat, gratitude, moments of joy, and even a sense of empowerment.

I know I'm not alone on this daily tour through every emotion imaginable...the entire world is feeling this.

But Sunday morning I woke up in physical pain that was only alleviated by letting the tears fall. Every urgent 'business' and mama detail fell to the background and I started crying and couldn't stop.

My husband asked, what’s the matter?

I said “It feels like my life’s work, every thing I have sacrificed and worked so damn hard to build the last 14 years went up in smoke over night.”

Through sobs I mumbled, I thought I could “outrun or work my way out of this reality and feeling. I miss my studio. I miss my teachers. I miss my students. I miss my Thursday in person meetings with Meryl and mapping out future plans. I miss training yoga teachers. I miss leading retreats. I miss the immersions that may not happen…

I know the world is rapidly shifting and so much is changing. Lives are being lost... and it still feels so human and important to name the losses that are small in comparison.

My husband sat there. He did nothing. He said nothing. He just sat with me as I sat with myself, my tears, and a profound moment of softness unfolded.

Later that day I practiced empowered wisdom yoga nidra and an image of a sleeping phoenix emerged.

We know the phoenix rises from ashes. What about when the phoenix is tired?

Y’all, we can’t muscle and push through this. Not this. Not now.

We need to release and rest before we rise. In fact, we need to release and rest in order to be able to rise in our power the way that this unprecedented moment demands.

We need to feel in order to heal. We need to cry to cleanse. We need space to fall apart and come together- over and over again.

We need to call in and on what sustains and strengthens us in order to open enough, to be soft enough to receive nourishment in this moment when so many feel completely depleted.

We can’t “get over” this moment. Getting over is a bypass and we can’t skirt around any of this.

We must get through. And we need clear, steady, energy to do that.

We need restored energy to do that.

We need connection to what is sacred in order to do that.

We need deep breaths, pauses, and chill to do that.

We can not outrun or work our way out of this reality and our feelings. It's not optional, it's imperative that we slow down, right now.

In this moment, our lives and livelihoods depend on our capacity to rest and restore.

Restore a sense of connection in a world where distancing is what keeps us safe.

Restore a relationship to our own center in a world teetering on the edge.

Restore awareness of an inner rhythm at a time when the space between 8am-12pm feels like a month, yet every week is a jumbled blur.

When we rest, we restore.

Today and tomorrow depends on our ability to rest... in order to expand our collective capacity to rise.

BONUS:
Here's a playlist I've been listening to. It reminds me of the SOURCE of my strength. May it remind you that we don't know what tomorrow holds, we do know that we are held.

If you liked this blog, check out our other blogs like: "Inside the Coronavirus, I See Hope", "Way Out of our Comfort Zone", "Taming Your Mind in the Face of Fear" and "Resources for Your Well-Being."