What's alive #4: Moving at the rhythm of life ๐
An Ode to Simplicity, The Practice of Slowness, Radical Resting.
Rest has been my biggest practice these days. I took time off to lie on the grass. Ants explore my legs, wild flowers sway at the rhythm of the wind. I listen to birds sing and construction work happen; watch snails glide along gracefully. And thatโs all I do. I listen, I rest, I am present - life happens.
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It sounds simple and maybe it is. But simplicity isnโt easy and distraction is easier than presence. Creating a life full of busy complexity can happen in an instant; decluttering it requires intentionality, space, time. Time to peel off, layer after layer, that which isn't necessary, isnโt nourishing. This is a delicate art. A practice to be cultivated, to be remembered and forgotten, over and over again, perhaps for as long as we dance with life.
I am currently remembering. Remembering to value these days of spaciousness, of resting, of devoting my full presence solely to paying attention to what is.ย Parts of me resist this. They hold the belief that holidays (and days in general) are meant for extraordinary adventures full of intensity and expansion. And a deeper part of me is irresistibly drawn to things, to experiences, that require time for nurturing and building. That canโt be rushed. There is an exquisite level of beauty and nourishment that can be tasted in that which was infused with time, with presence, with love.
The hand-carved wooden spoons and the slow-cooked meals. Handwritten letters, syrup made of carefully handpicked flowers. Plucking petal after petal. Trees that take years to grow and are burned in a bonfire within hours. I am learning so, so much from observing forests grow, from seeing the myriad of life-forms that co-exist and co-create the soil we stand on. It is expanding my understanding of what patience actually means: a slow, decade-long dance of creation, destruction and transformation.
And maybe Iโm drawn to this particular type of beauty right now because I also inhabit another world. A world of technology, of multiple projects speeding in and out of my inbox, of different screens accompanying me as I hop from one meeting to the next, caffeine as the backbeat ensuring that my system follows the intensity of that rhythm. Speed can be seductive, lulling us into the illusion that we are making the most out of our time.
And of course, we can always choose and change the rhythm of our dance. Lying on damp moss for hours can not only be replenishing - it is radical. It stands in direct opposition to that which our culture frequently values and celebrates: optimisation, productivity, efficiency. The belief that more is more. There is nothing efficient about handwritten letters. They are a daring investment of our most precious resources, of our time and energy and presence. The non-renewables. And so currently I dance with the question of envisioning and invoking
a life that centers beauty, seeing, sharing, creating it. a return to the simple where less is more where space abounds nourishment flourishes focus can expand and sharpen where the invisible can be sensed and the essential can be touched.
What are you invoking?
With love and in paradox,
Laura.
Please feel free to comment, share or reach out if anything resonated. I always love to receive your reflections.
๐ in other realms:
I turned 30 this week. I held a small ritual gathering and invited my close friends and the ingredients of magic, beauty and the unknown. There were songs, flowers, poetry and a co-created altar with seeds that contain wishes and now turned into a rattle that I canโt wait to play.
Daring to ask for what I desire has been such a practice for me and my birthday was an opportunity to really deepen it. And I want to continue practicing it here, with you. So here is my invitation: If you feel called to share, I'd love to receive memories we share that you cherish, qualities you see in me that you appreciate, ways in which this letters have touched you - or anything else that you that you want to offer. For me, it is always touching to receive your words and to see you choosing to spend your time with me, in this space. ๐
The short description of my picture was a taster - Grieving Fire Rituals have moved and inspired me so deeply. Last weekend I attended my second ritual and words are still emerging, slowly. I am sure they will take the shape of a longer letter to be shared one day. For now, this is an invitation for you to join us in one of our upcoming rituals in Norway or Switzerland. My friend Janna(li) who holds these spaces is such a source of inspiration in my life and I desire more people to experience what a culture of communal grieving is and can be. ๐ฏ๏ธ
I was invited to record a podcast on IFS (Internal Family Systems) with Andrina from Life Curation. It was a pleasure to dance with our inner paradoxes in this format. Voice notes are my natural habitat and podcasts are an easeful extension of that. Something is brewing in this space. โ๏ธ
In my tech universe, conversations around AI abound. I am hosting a series of Google I/O events for communities and developers - the next big one is to blossom in Amsterdam on June 21st. Let me know if you will be there that week - maybe our paths can cross! ๐
๐ฑ seeds to cultivate:
'Bats can hear shapes. Plants can eat light. Bees can dance maps. We can hold all these ideas at once and feel both heavy and weightless with the absurd beauty of it all'
- Jarod K. Anderson
If this resonated and made you think of other humans that might enjoy this experiment, please invite them on this journey. Shared discoveries often taste sweeter.
๐ written on a waxing crescent moon, on the grass. Literally.