Let There Be Liv
How I’m learning to let myself be
This past week, I started (another) new routine in self-care, a tending-to-self to support my own healing. I have done acupuncture a couple times in the past, both previous times in the final days of pregnancy, just dying for some relief and release. I sought it this time seeking relief and release in another way, to ease tension and open up places in my body that feel perpetually stuck. There is apparently a lot of evidence around acupuncture triggering labor and delivery1, and I thought, What else might it open up in me? Perhaps I have yet to see in the coming days.
My whole body was instantly relaxed, as it was in the past, and I was able to catch a deeply restful nap during the appointment. When my acupuncturist came back, she wanted to discuss what she noticed. “I can see that you overthink a lot.” I swallowed. “It seems your mind is over-functioning, and your body is under-functioning. Too much going on up here *motions around head* and not enough down here *motions around digestive system and hips/pelvis*.”
Are you kidding me? This is the latest in a string of health-related practitioners – each from different fields and specialties – that have essentially told me the same thing. It even came up in my most recent eye exam! What’s especially telling, though, is that it’s like I keep making it harder for myself. In the case of my eye prescription, it is apparently too strong but my eyes keep over-straining to make it “seem” like it’s my right prescription. Aka I don’t actually need to work that hard.
Over-function. Overcompensate. In other words, hyper-vigilant. Uptight. Unable to relax2.
Two weeks ago, I had the opportunity to both be part of the team and attend The Breath and the Clay 2024, a creative arts gathering out in North Carolina. It was a gift of an experience in so many ways, many of which I’m sure I’ll unpack here or otherwise. The theme of the weekend was Let There Be… with various invitations and all sorts of art forms to create, to respond, to connect. All weekend, I heard and felt the invitation to let there be all sorts of things within me and with others – contemplation, conversation, tears, authenticity, healing, being seen. But I kept sensing this pull to a more somatic response, an embodiment, a way to move in ways I wouldn’t normally be interested in. Lauren Stonestreet, an incredibly kind, multi-faceted artist, offered a workshop that Saturday called “Movement as Prayer.” I felt compelled to attend, especially with a resolve to release self-consciousness and receive freedom (brought on by an installation at the event by Sarita Dey). I don’t know what I expected, but what I experienced within that hour – with 40+ people who were basically strangers – may have changed my life.
It was body. It was basic. It was primal and tribal and in-tune. But it was the very piece of healing I hadn’t had yet, in this long and hard-fought journey towards feeling better the last couple years. We used our bodies instead of our voices. We were moving instead of intellectualizing. Even though a good 80% of us did not consider ourselves dancers, I was amazed how our bodies knew what to do and were far ahead of our minds in the process. Of course they knew what to do. There was flow and form, freedom and foolishness. I thought, “Only here. Only with a group of artists willing and able to enter in like this.” Anywhere else or any other time, I would have felt the awkwardness and uncomfortability, likely breaking into the space with a self-deprecating joke. Instead, I don’t know how to explain it – we each were all in.
We offered prayers up to God with our bodies, we interceded for others with our bends and backs, we swirled and twirled into what was here and now. We not only blessed our bodies but blessed with our bodies, speaking what we needed to hear – over and to ourselves and others – without using any words at all. Our facilitator and teacher was grace-filled and graceful, offering the perspective that our movement sends wavelengths into the world just like words do. There is a communication that can only careen, choreography that cures.
Maybe this is what it might mean to ease up on thinking and drop down deeper into the body. Maybe part of letting myself relax is letting myself be, arms to the sky and hips like honey. Our children get this, as I never see them gripped by self-consciousness or stuck in their own heads at this age. In fact, even negative emotions show up primarily in their bodies. They are our teachers in moving it through, showing me that my body needs to let emotions move through it, too, in ways that are regulating and healing. How might I let myself be in my own body? The same one that triggers so much shame, tension, and pain – what if it’s also the place where healing can begin? Years ago, I remember penning a line about “movement as mercy.” I saw it then mostly as a call to exercise and make sure my body was working out as it needed, but I’m beginning to wonder if it’s much more than that. Maybe movement mends and makes way for more.
I’ve been considering how the Spirit of God was moving before She was making3. Communion before creation. As my friend Rachel Marie Kang shared at TBTC, “Before we create, we commune.” Before I can make anything, I need to let there be…with and within me. With God. There is no production without presence, no getting out without getting in. But to be with me, I also need to let there be lots of other things there – grief, big feelings, being misunderstood, even rage. The very things I try to avoid within me are with me. But I can stay and sway with it, moving through and towards something that’s pulling me forward. Being with me brings me into being.
On my flight back home, I noticed the Mississippi River below me as we descended into MSP. I sketched out its shape and quickly penned:
consider
the river
how it flows
together
beginning
to end
is this communion?
this movement
whether the water rages
or stills
it’s still
a body
of water
matter
moving forward
moving towards
Something
Things to pay attention to:
Lauren (from above) is actually offering a 6-week Movement as Prayer workshop, and a little birdie told me she will have an virtual offering. I am seriously considering it. Do you want to join me?
This whole idea that overthinking is a survival response
These words from Aundi Kolber
This article on how the algorithmic build of our online world is flattening us
Emily P Freeman’s new book about when to stay and when to leave spaces
How you feel – this app has transformed paying attention to my emotions
Finding out how much money a family a four needs to make to “live comfortably” – weirdly validating at how unbelievably heavy financial burdens are these days
A really helpful read from my friend Rachel Wightman as we move forward in an election year amidst a digital landscape filled with misinformation (and disinformation – you’ll learn the difference in this book)
As always, thanks for reading along. I would love to hear your own insights into how you’ve learned to let yourself be.
Much love,
Liv
For real. I experienced it real-time in 2019 with my first. I had my first contraction on the acupuncture table.
I was quite literally “diagnosed” with a case of I Can’t Relax per pelvic floor muscle testing and function. Turns out at resting state, muscles are holding in at 3x the tightness comparatively.
Genesis 1:3 AMP
I am SO interested in joining the virtual movement workshop (and doing a few together in person if that's something you'd want to do).
All of this. So so good. I, too, am so drawn to rivers as teachers, and love this piece you’ve created! Also, thanks for the gentle nudge to consider returning to acupuncture.