Hello Reader

It's a busy week. The to-do list is long and is pressing into me from all sides. I need a brisk walk to wake up my brain and body. A walk to ease the feeling of flight welling up in my legs. A walk to give me perspective. A walk to ground me back into the smells, sights and sounds of right now.

I hit my regular route down to the beach, walk under my favorite tree and past the hedge of blooming aloes, red rockets pointed up at the sky. I get to the walkway. I turn left. I fall in line with all the other people walking their dogs or having a morning run.

My mind is moving far faster than my feet. My breath feels controlled and slightly forced. I notice this. I think to myself, ‘big horizons, look around, it calms the brain’.

Slowly, I move my eyes consciously from left to right. And as my eyes come to rest on the ocean on my right, my energetic body reaches out, down to the beach. I long to feel the cold water on my skin.

I've been on the path for just a few steps but abandon my walk and go down to the water’s edge.

I untie my shoelaces and slip off my running shoes. The cold wet beach sand immediately wakes up my whole body.

I know where my feet are.

My legs no longer need to run.

I am smiling even.

I sink into the granular softness underneath me.

I feel the sharp shells and round firm stones. They press up into my awareness, not urgent but persistent. Shifting with every step. Without looking down, I can ‘see’ where I am walking.

I pause before stepping my feet into the Atlantic.

Cold and wild and rough.

My body remembers this pleasure from cold dawn ocean plunges with friends. The prickly shock that turns to deep aliveness.

I step into the water and breathe a big sigh of relief. I notice the intricate patterns in the rocks. The snails gliding slowly around. The seagrass waving in the rockpools. The sun shimmering on the water’s surface.

I potter around for a while. And then I walk home barefoot.

The sky is clear and the bright midday sun hangs overhead. I am standing at the water’s edge in a tight wetsuit squeezing my legs and my ribs. My surfboard feels heavy and the only way I can comfortably carry it is on my head.

I have been waiting for this surfing lesson for a long time.

Three years to be precise.

Three years of watching the surfers frolic in the waves on my morning walk.

Three years of ups and downs, commitments, trials and responsibilities.

Three years of journeying through pregnancy into toddlerhood.

Three years of feeling my body’s wisdom calling me in the language of longing.

I walk into the sea, braving the waves that feel so much bigger than me suddenly. There is cold saltwater in my mouth, nose and eyes. I hop on my board and paddle. I catch my first wave. I try to pop up. And I come down with a big splash. Again and again and again. Despite the struggle against the strong currents and building fatigue, my body is radiating joy and every cell of my being is celebrating this aliveness.

Finally I find some balance and ride the wave out to the beach. It's just for a few second but its bliss. I step off the board and make my way out of the water. Barefoot and smiling.

Our bodies hold the score of all that has happened to us. But beyond the pain and the fear, it also holds the keys that unlock our healing. It remembers the joy and delight that made us feel our vibrant wholeness.

On some days, the body wisdom is to abandon the plans and the path.

On some days, the body wisdom is to stay patient and steadfast on the path rooted in the truth of your desire, knowing that the day will come.

In the small moments of our day to day is where we cultivate our healing and connection.

It is in recognizing the choices that are possible, when we allow space for longing.

It is recognizing that we carry the wisdom to guide our choices, within us.

It is in learning to listen to how the body speaks to us, holding that with care in the bigger cosmos of our lives to create harmony and expansion.

Today I offer you a yoga nidra practice to help you listen to what your body may be asking for. Find yourself a comfortable quiet place where you can rest into the body’s wisdom for about 30 minutes.

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Much love, Liezl