A Different Way to Wake
Heart of Many Places
A misshapen golden heart hangs on the beautiful tilt of lived life. Beneath its warm surface, deep green earth tones gather like forests, fields,
and beloved paths remembered. This piece honors the truth that many places can live within one heart.
Their Blessing ~
May every place that shaped you remain a living warmth within.
May what you love never be lost.
May your heart know how to carry home.
As June approached, I felt the shift in rhythm beginning. More light. More movement. More invitations outward.
Where I live, this time of year carries a particular kind of momentum. The world stretches itself awake again. Summer plans begin forming. Days fill more easily. Energy starts turning outward after months of inwardness. And this year, before fully stepping into that season, I found myself needing to pause. I realized that I could not enter another outward-facing high energy season using rhythms that pull me away from myself and leave me over-extended and exhausted.
This winter I promised myself I would start paying closer attention to what actually creates sustainable energy in my life so that I could find a pace that would let me stay present in this life. As someone navigating this world as an AuDHD person, I experience periods of nervous system burnout, times where basic functioning can be an incredibly hard lift. Sometimes the lift is impossible.
During my May pause, I had no choice but to dedicate time for new inner reflection and time to experiment with different personal accommodations. Two things emerged: how much the pace of my morning shapes everything that follows and how much of my living has been about performing. For a long time, I've been waking up already bracing against the day. Before my feet even touched the floor, there was often a sense of urgency humming beneath the surface. A looming feeling of needing to catch up to life before the day had even begun.
I started experimenting with something gentler. As I awoke, I tuned into my inner dialogue allowing space for negative thoughts while introducing new loving thoughts. It was time for a loving voice to be given as much emphasis and strength as the negative voice. I've also been stretching before getting out of bed. Keeping the room quiet a little longer. Allowing light and sound to arrive gradually. And trying not to flood my nervous system before the day has even started.
Small things. But sometimes small things become turning points.
I’ve also been reflecting on how easy it is to confuse performance with connection. Especially those of us who have learned, consciously or unconsciously, to overextend ourselves in order to feel loved, useful, or enough. I’m beginning to wonder if part of healing is learning that we can disappoint others or underperform our own expectations without sacrificing love. We can need solitude and still belong to one another. We can move more slowly without failing life. Pausing is not the opposite of growth and never was.
This doesn’t mean rejecting the ramp up that comes with spring and summer. In many ways, I’m looking forward to what summer will bring: more time outside, more movement, more connection, more travel, more life unfolding. But I want to enter it differently. With rhythms that allow me to remain connected to myself. With enough space to hear my own thoughts. With more honesty about my actual capacity. With less performance and more presence.
Perhaps this is part of June’s invitation. Not necessarily to slow everything down, but to listen before accelerating. To notice which rhythms genuinely sustain us. To ask what pace allows us to stay connected to our lives rather than simply moving through them.
Roots need to deepen for blossoms to unfurl. That is not a paradox. It's the natural rhythm.
Much love to you and your spirit,
Sara
P.S. If you’ve been craving a gentler pace lately, you are not alone. Sometimes the most supportive thing we can do before entering a fuller season is to pause long enough to hear what our bodies have to say.
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