Remembering to Pause

Sunset over Rice Lake in Whitewater, WI

If you're from southern Wisconsin, then you know that yesterday was immaculate. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the breeze was subtle. There was very little stirring except birds and katydids. I decided to take a breather from my busy day of editing and running errands at my favorite corner of the world: Dr. O.R. Rice Picnic Area in Whitewater, or as I like to call it, the Rice Lake peninsula.

While relaxing in the sun, I realized that I've been craving that stillness for months. I've spent the last year grieving the loss of six beings (I say beings because one of the six was my first kitty) and the last few weeks trying to figure out what to do with the energy happening in the world. And the world isn't even still right now! There are fires ablaze on the west coast and hurricanes hitting the east. The winds have been ripe with upheaval, shifts, and changes that haven't felt particularly good. But moving from summer to autumn isn't always the easiest transition, especially if natural disasters are occurring, because we're forced into a slower pace that makes us look inward.

I carry heaviness that begs to be let out, and I'm not really sure what to do about it. Detox? Retreat for a week? Stop working for a month? Some days, I feel like I could run until my feet bleed. But on days like yesterday, I could lay still forever. I devour the light every moment I get, but I'm having a hard time figuring out how to give the light back.

Why do I tell you all of this? Because I think it's important to recognize when we feel low and give ourselves the space to feel that. But I also want to know how you're dealing with the heaviness in your life. Do you leave room to pause? What do you do when you take a breather? If you feel like sharing what lifts you up on a particularly heavy day, drop a comment below. I'd love to learn your tricks.