Peaceful Winter Days + a Call for Submissions
Now is the time for stillness and introspection. And I want your poetry on practice.
It’s 9 am on a Wednesday morning. The temps are meant to get up to 30 degrees today then dip down to minus 20. I’ve got a nice EO combo in the diffuser (3 drops lemon, 3 drops peppermint, 10 drops lavender (it’s a bit overkill on the lavender but, you know, I want the uplifting with extra chill)), the air plants have been soaked and are now drying, a second cup of tea is brewing, Copper has been fed and let out (and in), and I journaled.
I’ve been relishing the quiet this winter season and have doubled down on my meditation practice, which feels even more necessary living in a city with its pull toward doing and moving and engaging.
I’ve been observing the ways in which some of my practices have a pushing quality to them. An insistence that I perceive, think, do, believe something different than I am right now. A quality of fighting against a feeling, belief, thought, instinct, rather than moving with it, allowing it, sitting with it.
Any time my brain throws in a “should” or “have to” or “need to”, that resistance strikes up in my body and I just keep pushing, poking, prodding at it and whatever it is that I think I should be doing, feels even further away.
It’s only when I surrender and allow that the resistance lifts.
I’m not and never have been, particularly drawn to New Year’s declarations. Starting a new year in the middle of wintering has struck me as quite odd and incongruous even before I recognized winter for what it is. It never felt right to burst into the new year with a new me when all I wanted was to curl up on the sofa with a book and a cup of tea. Now is not the time to crunch, rush, hustle, rebuild, add things to the to-do list, spend hours at the gym, work really hard for… what?
Now is the time for stillness and introspection and sleep. Did you know humans once spent a lot of time sleeping through the winters in the northern hemisphere? I saw a reel about it the other day. I’ve forgotten every community mentioned but the overall message was clear: read a book, wear thick socks, light a fire or a candle. If you’re in the northern hemisphere, your body is likely telling you to savor rest.
If doing feels hard, it’s supposed. We’ve spent years denying our bodies their natural seasonal rhythms with electric lighting and snow plows. I’m not suggesting we shouldn’t use these things. Just, you know, tune into your body, listen to what it’s asking for. And try not to be afraid or think what it says is wrong. Try not to gaslight yourself. We get enough of that from the external messages we receive.
invitation for reflection
What practices are you engaging in this winter season? What things are you noticing in your body and outside of it?
call for submissions:
Almost since I started this publication I have considered how I might include other voices as well as my own. I have heard the call over and over again to open to submissions and I’m frankly exhausted by resisting it. So in this too I’m surrendering. And it’s created a lot of momentum and excitement on the backend here at unraveling, unmoored.
I’ve redesigned the look a bit, and changed the URL from libbywalkup.com to unravelingunmoored.com (I didn’t feel right asking folks to submit to a publication that was under my name). I’ve rewritten the welcome emails text, and I’ve changed up the offers for paid subscribers (subscribers coming in at the founding level will receive real mail from me! Zines and ephemera packets as they become available and for as long as it’s sustainable).
I’m all abuzz with glee.
I started this publication with an aim to explore creative and slow-living practices. It didn’t take me long to remember that in order to truly slow down, I had to slow down on the inside, and mind-body-spirit practices became core for me.
I was drawn to documenting and exploring practice because I was out on my own for the first time intentionally without an academic program holding me to deadlines I never managed to meet as it was.
I picked up Morning Pages and for the first time I was writing every day even if it was a bunch of gobbledygook. I started to remember how, when I studied at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, occasionally hanging out in the studio spaces, I got a glimpse of how artists work.
I sincerely was ignorant to play and experimentation. I often tried to make lines perfect in my head before they even touched the page, which of course was debilitating. Seeing how others’ practiced, started to shift how and what I practiced.
SAIC is when I started to play with text art and began my journey into book arts. I started to feel just a little less whatever I had been feeling before and open to different ways of being a writer and maker. I’d like this space to become a collection of lived practices. I’d like us to share with each other the different ways we embody practice and the different things we notice through essays and poetry.
I’m open to collaborators in two categories: On Practice and Poetic Musings. Submission Guidelines can be found on the About Page. I’d sincerely, dear Reader, love to share your practices, processes, and poetry.
I am super excited to expand unraveling, unmoored and share voices here beyond my own. And of course, you’ll still hear from me, including more of my poetry.
Cheers,
a related post
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I’m obsessed with stopping time too! Excited to find you. Subscribed.
I've loved witnessing the natural flow of your process here. Poetry on Practice feels so lovely in my body. :) I'm looking forward to seeing what arrives in this space.