Taking Stock: First Year of Slow Living
As you might have guessed, things have gone far from plan.
Y’all, my big four-oh is just around the corner (24 Sept.) and though I had wild dreams of having a big dance party or going off to Chicago to meet up with friends, as it turns out what I REALLY want is to have a quiet, healing, meditative, sushi-filled weekend with just a couple of friends in FM.
So, in lieu of a big celebration and asking you all to make your way to me, I’m hosting another BIRTHDAY MAIL EXTRAVAGANZA, 40th edition!
Death has been a major part of the last, well, few years, but especially since moving to the north woods. Pets dying, bunnies possibly being killed by my dog, elderly family leaving us.
I’ve also experienced a number of health issues and illnesses that have left me feeling like I’ve been prematurely aging for years. I am working toward shifting, and hopefully reversing that process, but in the meantime, my post box is ready and waiting for whatever amusement, encouragement, hope, or commiseration you can send.
Libby Walkup
31682 County 2
Shevlin, MN 56676
Thirteen months ago when I moved to the north woods of Minnesota I declared I was looking to slow down, build a writing practice, and try out art forms new to me like drawing and painting.
At the new year, my aim was to find "FOCUS + FLOW," which, as the months went on seemed like the thing furthest from reach.
Through it all and something I wrote less about: I was finding it difficult to grasp any kind of physical health: as I do, I tried a number of different exercise modalities, getting into something and then falling off again.
At one point I was living in so much pain and exhaustion, I couldn’t get out of bed for days at a time, so I developed a bed routine that eventually led to building enough core strength that I can do elbow side planks now for at least 10 seconds apiece. A year ago I could hardly push myself up into a side plank on an elbow or an extended arm. (Elbow seems to take more strength, an extended arm takes more balance, but hurts my wrist.)
I was, and maybe am, far from healing or health, but the Compassion Key came to me via a FB ad, as so many things now do, at the end of June or early July. I attended the first free clearing webinar and it was so weird and woo-woo and I felt so good after, that I went for it.
A couple of weeks later, my intuition led me to search for breathwork training. I figured even if I can't get out of bed some days, I can still BREATHE.
I found YogaLap on a list of breathwork courses and because Michael Bijker is eager to spread healing, his online trainings are inexpensive or pay what you can, so I dove into that, too.
I haven't been consistent with either course, and I still don't have a clear picture on how I might use these trainings outside of my own healing.
But I do know that I feel calmer even than I did a couple of months ago despite using less CBD and more caffeine to aid in focus. I have begun again reading extensively on topics that are helpful to me. I am also reading more poetry.
I am keeping my phone turned off for extended periods of time. I have more energy and stamina. I am slowly hearing the kind of language I seem to have lost to poor health, tech, and social media, the kind of language that beckons me out of bed and demands to be noted.
The kinds of voices writers hear.
So though I have not built the writing business I had hoped to in the last year, I have found my way into healing modalities that seem to be both sending me on new, unexpected paths, as well as picking up on old trails I’ve been desperate to come back to.
I’m eager to find where these healing modalities lead and what the next 12 months bring.
Considering I spent so much of my life in school, autumn still feels like a new beginning for me more so than the change in year. The harvests are coming in, the weather is shifting into something I find more comfortable, and though the days are getting shorter and plant life is beginning its descent into death or hibernation, it is, or has been, the beginning of a new school year, a new semester, sometimes, for me, a new locale, new friends, new routines, new adventures.
Most importantly, there’s tons of stationery for sale everywhere!
I invite you to consider the last year, or nine months, if that’s how you roll: did things pan out as you’d hoped / expected / planned? What has created unexpected shifts? What are you looking forward to in the coming months? How might you let in more ease as the seasons shift?
