I love being a regular at coffee shops or restaurants. That feeling of welcome, of people knowing my order, of familiar banter, grounds me.
What would it be like to have that feeling in our body and mind? To be a regular in the space we’re regularly in 24/7?
I think it means acceptance.
Knees cracking, thoughts recurring, “um”s and “uh”s in our speech, anxiety about work, headaches sometimes, heart full of love other times, annoyed you’re annoyed, guilt about procrastination, ambivalence too.
Traversing the day not as a body and mind, but with however our body and mind show up.
Body as temple takes on new meaning. Before it’s that though, is it a place we can tolerate? A place that welcomes us? A door we open gratefully knowing things will be hard inside?
Home isn’t always where we find our rest, it’s also a place where we stop and face ourselves nakedly. Where we are bare but still whole.
Can we be with our body and mind as if it were a home? The question alone begets the cringe and delight of being human. What we accept accepts us all.
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