A lifetime ago, I flew from my Ohio college town to visit my brother, who was living on the UWS of Manhattan. The city was our playground that weekend, we wandered around museums and ate roti rolls and accidentally took the subway to Brooklyn and laughed until we cried. Then I contentedly whisked myself back to my life, never imagining I’d be back in the city for more than a quick visit - I didn’t miss the buzz or the lights or the energy. None of the sparkly big city wonder stuck in my mind. What did imprint itself were the words my brother had written in sharpie on the side of the plywood ladder leading up to his lofted bed - STAY HUNGRY.
Years later, when I somewhat unintentionally began to call NYC home, those words followed me - I did stay hungry. Against my nature, I hustled - working endless hours running myself into the ground, building beautiful relationships and businesses and objects. I feel the fruits of my drive blossoming - I know I’ll feel them for the rest of my life - but nowadays, I view the hunger in a softer light. A light that creates boundaries, like the crisp shadows of wild cactus cast from the intense desert sun. I work hard, and sometimes still too much, but I’m beginning to move my body to the rhythm of nature in a new and gentler way. I rise up with the sun and let my body shift into rest when the sky lights up with pinks and reds, signaling the end of a day. I offer myself quiet breaks, just me and the wind against the skin of my face. I take my AirPods out of my ears so I can hear the gravel crunching under my feet as I hike with my pup. I stay hungry in a slower way that feels more open, more curious, more stable, more me.
Slowing down has been on my mind and in top of conversation with my clients lately. It can feel uncomfortable, sitting with ourselves quietly. So how can we welcome in the silence and allow a slowness to fill us through the discomfort?
Of course there are so many ways, and the best one for you is the one that works for you, specifically. I help my clients in noticing feelings, naming them, and inviting them to stay for a little while, remembering that they all will pass. I guide them in focusing on their breath and breathing into the discomfort. All a process of noticing, nonjudgmentally, as the feelings ebb and flow, letting them run through instead of being suffocated.
I encourage an open curiosity - what would it feel like to do the hard thing? What would it feel like to sit in a quiet stillness with your mind for a little while? What’s the worst thing that could happen?
And if the stillness of your mind feels too scary or too loud or too hectic, I ask you: what if you reached out to talk to someone? Whether it be a therapist, a friend, or scheduling a creative ritual and grounding session with me? What’s the worst thing that could happen?
Wishing us all small steps toward slowness and moments of quiet peace, however fleeting.
so excited every time a soon-to-be-friend and an old friend signs up for my community clay play gathering in soho on april 28th (!!!) join us for a slow sunday morning of clay play and manifesting - there’s still space, grab your seat here to zen out with us :)
i just scheduled my first one-on-one creative ritual and grounding session and am so excited for this new offering! learn more about how you can ground with me using clay and your breath + find your way if you’re feeling a little unsteady here (and use the code HEALINGCLAY for $11 off!)
julia cameron’s new book Living the Artist’s Way just arrived and i can’t wait to dive into a six-week long book study experiment with
in may. i would love for some of you to join!i’m continuing to grow my therapy practice in nyc - if you or someone you know is feeling stuck, lost at sea, frustrated, or hurting - I’m here! *please know that, because of licensing, you must live in new york state for us to work together!
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⋰ email: grace@cadywest.com