When the times and spaces where you normally find your breath are dripped and then drenched and then flooded with disclosures and no space is air space… open up space, small space, enough space, and breathe.
Pace yourself. One foot in front of the other, each step only as you’re able. Or rest, no steps at all. Move. Rest. Whichever feels helpful, whichever feeds your spirit and gives the greatest ease.
When the freeze smothers fight and all the
words grief harm hurt rage
surge up in flashbang memories,
impact echo in ringing bones,
residual cloud of nothing numbing where Resist did live…
When your past seeps in
deep shades of red staining pastel nows
and traumas too high
measure ACEs more easily
by the two you’ve not
than the eight you have…
Feel the places where your fingers touch,
skin touching skin, tongue touching teeth,
air still moving
This work is a force, is gravity, a tide, not a single impact, not a shower of many. It pulls and heaves and drives and rolls and gives voice, scatters power, powers change. It will still be there, in motion, pushing on, after you’ve recharged back to ready. While you tend your own cells, others will hold the shape of the movement, voices raised, arms reaching out, standing in solidarity with those you’ll tend after the tender heart that lives in your own chest restarts.
Give yourself permission.
Unplug. Go offline. Go for a walk. Nourish your body. Have coffee with a friend. Talk it out. Believe yourself. Trust your knowing. Feel your feet on the ground and the air in your lungs. Notice a part of your body that feels relaxed, supported.
This is how we keep going.
Breathe for now, for today, for a moment.