The mind doesn’t need to be silenced, only befriended. Like a clever raccoon, it responds better to gentle redirection than scolding. Give it something real to feel.
It's not our job to repair the entire sky. We are instead assigned to tend the patch of sky above our heads, so some light can shine through for someone else.
Somatic movement begins with the act of sensing. It asks us to feel before deciding, to notice before acting. The form is no longer the goal; it’s simply the trail left by the trip there.
When the building’s on fire, maybe the most skillful thing isn’t yelling “It’s burning!” louder than everyone else. Maybe it’s quietly picking up a bucket.
If you’ve ever been on a retreat — a week of moving your body, breathing mountain air, looking up from your phone long enough to notice the shape of the clouds, and eating meals cooked by loving hands — then you know that going home can feel like stepping off a warm rock into cold water.
