Love this practice, Laura, and your compilation of what hasn't changed for you is so poetic!
Another grounding practice I like to use as an antidote to disruption, fear and panic is to ask: "What are you grateful for?" And then I write about those things. But I'm going to try this practice too!
Yes, I’ve definitely alternated this with a gratitude list. And someone taught me something that’s made that even stronger—for each thing you put on your gratitude list, to add WHY you’re grateful for it. For instance, “I’m grateful for my walks in the woods because the green colors calm my nervous system, it feels great to move my legs, and I’m reminded of the bigger perspective outside this fraught moment.” I think it reinforces the neural pathways for joy even more!
What a beautiful meditation on what remains. To me, this also speaks of what's timeless within us, what we're called to return to or remember. Thank you.b
I love all of this! There are so many bits and pieces that are wonderful, I can't pick out my favorite. Some things that will stick: moving at the speed of feet, my parents are still dead, dog treat belt, and what hasn't changed can ground us when the world is chaotic. Thank you for sharing your creativity with all of us Laura.
Thank you for this, Laura. Great timing for this prompt. I love the images, flowered rainboots and carrot juice in the bath! The scent of cooking onions - so distinct. Dog walks too. So many delightful things to notice.
I found my mind spiraling down the neg-a-sphere, my word for all the bad things in the world that are making me crazy right now. Learning to notice the downward spiral of my thoughts is only a step; the next step is to ask: What's here right now? This morning, the view of the hills opened up, sun-warmed and textured with layers of green only seen at this time of year. Closer in, I'm captivated by trunks of trees, spiraling upward, intertwined like dancers holding an ever-reaching moment toward joy, and another tree, its branches stretched outward with an invitation: Look, come see all the beauty here. We have not changed! We are here! The long views of green rolling hills and the sturdy, reaching trees reminding me the sunlight and beauty of today will be enough for now.
Laura, your prompt vibrates with that which is alive in the texture of the everyday: the sacred, the stubborn, the sorrowful, and the joyful. The rhythm of what hasn’t changed becomes almost spell bound, like the sound of a gong echoing through a quiet space, a reminder of who you are beneath the noise of change.
Your rain boots, the carrot juice baths, the strange harmony between the dripping sink and the broken toilet: it’s all specific and grounding. And then, the quiet turn near the end: I am beloved. The earth is beloved. You are beloved. It landed like a hush in the heart. Simple and sacred.
I step outside my door and smell the fragrance of Star Jasmine, I see the tiny globes of cherry tomatoes forming, and I remember the pleasant memories from childhood and let the chaos of the present fall away, at least for a while.
I go outside my door and smell the fragrance of the abundantly flowering Star Jasmine, I see the tiny globes of cherry tomatoes forming, I hold the pleasant memories from childhood and let the present chaos fall away....at least for a little while.
As I read I soften, feel the rain, hear the drips, know the weight if the bucket and I release a shallow breath and breathe deeply, smiling. Thank you.
Love this practice, Laura, and your compilation of what hasn't changed for you is so poetic!
Another grounding practice I like to use as an antidote to disruption, fear and panic is to ask: "What are you grateful for?" And then I write about those things. But I'm going to try this practice too!
Yes, I’ve definitely alternated this with a gratitude list. And someone taught me something that’s made that even stronger—for each thing you put on your gratitude list, to add WHY you’re grateful for it. For instance, “I’m grateful for my walks in the woods because the green colors calm my nervous system, it feels great to move my legs, and I’m reminded of the bigger perspective outside this fraught moment.” I think it reinforces the neural pathways for joy even more!
What a beautiful meditation on what remains. To me, this also speaks of what's timeless within us, what we're called to return to or remember. Thank you.b
Thank you Jen. I found writing it to be calming. There is much that cannot be taken from us, not matter what.
I love all of this! There are so many bits and pieces that are wonderful, I can't pick out my favorite. Some things that will stick: moving at the speed of feet, my parents are still dead, dog treat belt, and what hasn't changed can ground us when the world is chaotic. Thank you for sharing your creativity with all of us Laura.
thank you, Cheryl. What would be some of the things that would be on your list?
Thank you for this, Laura. Great timing for this prompt. I love the images, flowered rainboots and carrot juice in the bath! The scent of cooking onions - so distinct. Dog walks too. So many delightful things to notice.
I found my mind spiraling down the neg-a-sphere, my word for all the bad things in the world that are making me crazy right now. Learning to notice the downward spiral of my thoughts is only a step; the next step is to ask: What's here right now? This morning, the view of the hills opened up, sun-warmed and textured with layers of green only seen at this time of year. Closer in, I'm captivated by trunks of trees, spiraling upward, intertwined like dancers holding an ever-reaching moment toward joy, and another tree, its branches stretched outward with an invitation: Look, come see all the beauty here. We have not changed! We are here! The long views of green rolling hills and the sturdy, reaching trees reminding me the sunlight and beauty of today will be enough for now.
Laura, your prompt vibrates with that which is alive in the texture of the everyday: the sacred, the stubborn, the sorrowful, and the joyful. The rhythm of what hasn’t changed becomes almost spell bound, like the sound of a gong echoing through a quiet space, a reminder of who you are beneath the noise of change.
Your rain boots, the carrot juice baths, the strange harmony between the dripping sink and the broken toilet: it’s all specific and grounding. And then, the quiet turn near the end: I am beloved. The earth is beloved. You are beloved. It landed like a hush in the heart. Simple and sacred.
Perhaps you look forward to my posts, Mahi. I know I always look forward to your comments! They're poetic and always so specific.
Yes, I do! Every Saturday morning with a cup of coffee.
I can't tell you how happy that makes me. There's nothing like being read and looked forward to.
I step outside my door and smell the fragrance of Star Jasmine, I see the tiny globes of cherry tomatoes forming, and I remember the pleasant memories from childhood and let the chaos of the present fall away, at least for a while.
And now you're giving me the gift of the world outside your door. Thank you for sharing.
I go outside my door and smell the fragrance of the abundantly flowering Star Jasmine, I see the tiny globes of cherry tomatoes forming, I hold the pleasant memories from childhood and let the present chaos fall away....at least for a little while.
As I read I soften, feel the rain, hear the drips, know the weight if the bucket and I release a shallow breath and breathe deeply, smiling. Thank you.
Ahhh…reading your response, I feel it over again. Thank you for reminding me.