Journal of the Movement of the World No. 26
All that fighting, all that doubting and leaning into stillness won.
Inspired by Muriel Barbery's The Elegance of The Hedgehog, which asked me to ponder these lines and create my own Journal of the Movement of the World entry:
"I'm referring to the beauty that is there in the world, things that, being part of the movement of life, elevate us. The Journal of the Movement of the World will be devoted therefore to the movement of people, bodies, or even — if really there's nothing to say — things, and to finding whatever is beautiful enough to give meaning. Grace, beauty, harmony, intensity."
I don't claim to be an intellectual; I'll let those who engage with products of my creativity decide on that. As I write this, I'm outside talking to the elements, breeze, moments, and a character I really like from this book, Renée. The breeze starts gently as I sit down on this beautifully shaded bench. First, I figure out how I'd like to sit on this bench and maintain that position for a little while. After ten minutes, my ankles pleaded with me to change their position. They were comfortable, but the bench was a hard surface to be pressed against for an extended time. So, I moved my matcha to the side, placed my book on my lap, and placed my feet on the ground. One paragraph in, the breeze got stronger, so I had to re-read the pages that started this reading session. The breeze got even stronger, so I placed the book in my lap, held onto my matcha, corrected my posture, closed my eyes, and waited to see what would happen.
In those moments when I closed my eyes, I felt the breeze through the trees, on my skin, around me, through my braids, my shoulders, my arms, and it was so beautiful on that shaded bench. When I leaned into it and opened my eyes, the breeze lifted a few branches high enough for the sunlight to hit them, reflect off the green of the leaves and onto my shades. I thought this moment would help me write a story, a character, a feeling, a place, a moment, or a monologue someday, so I urged myself to lean into it because it's writer material, it's life material. It's human material, proof of living, breathing, and feeling, and that stillness that I often talk about. There's a lightness and joy that comes with deciding not to fight the movement.
The movement of your limbs, your tongue in speech, because sometimes you need to say what needs to be said in love and let a person correct you. Let them understand what you're saying, and love you back and correct you. Let them realize that you're right, and love you even more for that. Sometimes, we fight against the movement of our whole being, of words, thoughts, feelings, and moods. Sometimes we need to correct our posture, ask the breeze to be gentle, or ask for a pause in the movement. Give yourself a few minutes, then lean into the movement that feels uncomfortable, that you're trying to prevent, and figure out what it's teaching you. What you need from it and what it needs from you.
There are so many forms of movement that we fight against in this life, and sometimes it wants to teach us something, something that is much easier learned if we don't fight. Much easier learned if we lean into it. Much easier learned if we pause for a moment. Much easier learned if we don't judge ourselves, the moment, the movement in the moment, or ourselves in the movement.
It's pushing through all of the things that almost prevented you from going outside today, fighting through all of that with tears, a snotty nose, and you didn't look so cute, but you got outside. Sometimes, we don't know what to wear; we don't know if that place we want to go, that thing we want to do, or the new thing is worth it anymore. Go outside and find out there's a seat waiting for you. The breeze is moving you to the place because they are waiting to serve you, to hand you a menu and let you take as long as it takes, as long as you need to figure out what you're going to sip on, what you're going to eat.
If you're outside like me, it's watching leaves and branches sway above your head; it's so nature can welcome you and love on you by doing its thing, allow you to be an observer and admirer. To let the breeze rush past and kiss your skin, to carry the music that proves you're alive, that proves you made it outside. To be in your most beautiful form, sat under a tree with beautifully shaped leaves.
The beauty in the world that forms part of the movement of life and elevates us gives some meaning to that unknown deadline we all have, but we must lean into it. My deadline is in good health and good service to the Most High in my job as Poet, Writer, Visionary, and Host at the Deep Thinker's Lounge. I welcome you to push into the beyond. Try not to fight the movement today, whether that's the breeze, yourself, or the movement from point A to point B.
Be gentle with yourself, like the breeze blows gently on skin, surfaces, through space, and around buildings. I think I found a reason to stay alive today, and tomorrow, and the day after that. I hope you find a reason, too.
