Out of nowhere, Iâve been struck by a sharp need for soothing.
It pangs like a side cramp during the most important cross country race of the seasonâwas it something I ate? It is time, I think, to walk it off.
Letâs talk about soothing. The cozy robe I am wearing as I write this, and most likely as I read this in the morning, is soothing. Iâm sure itâs made of polyester, but itâs functional and comfortable and there are no recycling centers for pink fluffy plastic robes.
Remember waking up to fresh mountain air in Big Bear last May, and your hair was long and newly pink? Walking across a quiet parking lot and browsing the menus on old vending machines, as if you might actually spring for a soda. The warmth of a wounded heart beating inside your chest; the freedom you felt in the healing. Soothing.
And that day, long ago, when you sat by a small stream they called âThe Jordan Riverâ that ran through the center of campus. The slight slip of each stone as you hopped across to a grass patch, green from summer rain. You jotted poetryâyour new languageâwith a black click-pen on pristine notebook pages. You held the first signs of autumn in your hand, and wrote small poems on dried leaves before setting them to sail down the river. You felt the same then as you do now: weary in the face of a world you did not understand.
But rememberâhow much hope you found even in times of wandering. And in the slumber of winter, it remained.
Soothe yourself, affirm yourself, and let those move you back into that hope.
Once again.
Next Steps: Drink a glass of water, prepare some fresh mint tea for yourself, and invite whatever ease you can find.
PS this is helpful: