the density of the days

recently I’ve been feeling the density of the days — or maybe just the density of how I feel on each day. I feel like a thousand pounds; like too much intense ocean water and not enough air, light, spaciousness. part of the inward journey is embracing our own (let’s not call them) weaknesses; specialties. and that endless art of knowing thyself is knowing those tendencies. my tendency is to get lost all the time. I crawl into wormholes — into a writing project, a work intention, a momentary obsession — and I’m so disoriented when I crawl back out. there needs to be a grounding compass that says to me: you are here. this is now. if you let go, the world around you won’t crumble. this is when I need things like space, light, air. and maybe it’s as simple as taking ten breathes, feeling my body on the floor, sensing into the poetry of the moment where I don’t need to do anything. no-thing-ness.