There are two practices I am leaning into in these disorienting times, and they are not the practices I would have assumed would be most helpful. Not my art journal, not my breathing practice, not setting “worry timers” and only worrying within those allotted minutes.
All of these practices are wonderful, and they are adding much-needed structure to my days, but they aren’t the two that truly ease my heart and mind.
The ones that are really helping?
1) Listening to the birds in the morning and singing with them.
2) Spending time with plants.
The more-than-human world is so helpful right now, both in finding a perspective that is not overwhelming and in generating genuine joy and renewal. We are mammals; we feel safe when we can touch each other and hear each others’ voices. Although we are wise to physically distance right now, it is important that we find other ways of getting our need for connection met. Why? Because when we feel unsafe, we are less kind to ourselves and to others.
I am finding that connection in the tenderly blooming chickweed, the softness of mosses, the strength of the spine of the maple tree in my backyard. I am finding it in the ululating notes of the birds that celebrate every single dawn.
Lately I have been singing with them. There is science to back this; singing, chanting, and sounding stimulate the vagus nerve and create feelings of safety. Whether it is in your shower, on the phone to your friend, or softly to your sleeping child, singing is a beneficial and balancing practice right now.
The better we care for ourselves and meet our safety needs, the more available we are to help others when they need us.
If you are feeling disoriented, know that this is the right way to feel. Place a hand on your heart, breathe deeply enough to lift the hand, and offer yourself some compassion for these difficult times you are living in. Find a tone that seems to resonate with your heart, and hum. Hum gently, but enough that you can feel your heart vibrate with the sound. Stay in this humming practice until you can feel something shift. Sometimes this brings tears and sometimes it brings a sense of strength.
I am in this with you, and I wish you strength, softness, and self-compassion.
