Diving into the innermost
Days like these challenge my resilience reserves. Looking inward when the anxiety is rising and emotions so raw is like carrying a torch into the inner corners and catacombs in search of…more. Where is it? How can I access deeper strength on the hardest days?
Today, it looks like this.
Channeling my emotions, quite literally energies in motion, into a creative expression, as I’m doing through this very post this very moment.
Keeping my coffee ritual sacred. I will show up at the shop as the lights turn on like I do every day and find comfort in the routine of savoring a hot cup that warms my soul along with the kindness of strangers and small talk.
Walking the Rosary Garden at St. Charles. Surrendering my fears in the crisp chill and stillness that is September in the morning. Hearing the leaves and pebbles crunching under my feet will ground me.
Calling my friend. Who recently experienced a loss so tragic that sometimes just coming together to be present and vulnerable in moments of suffering and uncertainty lets us rise in our shared humanity.
Driving while playing music that brings joy to my heart and sweet memories to mind—the ones he and I enjoy together and make us feel like nothing else in the world or moment matters—obviously, the Sound of Music, Mama Mia, and Jersey Boys soundtracks.
Stopping along my travels to nourish my mind and body with nature breaks and farmstands, reaching for a nostalgic treat, say a Whoopie pie, for the baked-in comfort of a grandmas love (doesn’t have to be my grandma to be comforting).
Being with my twin brother. And my mom. Breathing. And showing up in the hospital waiting room, centered from these intentional reflections and actions, having jumped headfirst into the catacombs of my innermost this morning and emerging with a newly lit torch.
Sitting, patiently. For his procedure to be done. Silently. Reverently. Waitfully. Hoping for healing and recovery from the man who taught me the most about resilience—My Dad.
Joy Devins, HWC
Loon Rising, LLC
