Giving yourself open time
What could it look like to give yourself open time to be with what is happening inside you?
Not fixing.
Not analyzing.
Not pushing it away.
Just being.
This morning, before the sun rose over the pine trees, I noticed my body reacting to something. My chest tightened. My throat felt full. Tears were close to the surface. Instead of brushing it off or distracting myself, I stayed.
I sat with the sensations.
I asked gently, “What is this?”
Is it longing? Sadness? Hope? Disappointment?
I didn’t rush to answer. I let my body speak in its own language through breath, tears, tension, warmth.
I placed a hand on my heart. I reminded my body it is safe. I let the tears come when they were ready. At one point, my hips moved in a releasing motion on their own. A silent scream moved through without sound. Then came yawns and arms stretched. Shoulders softened. Breath deepened.
Outside my window, a deer walked quietly by before the sun fully rose.
Nothing dramatic. Just life moving.
As the sky slowly lightened behind the pine trees, something in me finished integrating. Not because I forced it. Not because I figured it out. But because I gave it space.
These moments do not need to take hours.
They can happen in the quiet before your day begins.
They can happen in ten intentional minutes.
They can happen when you notice a sensation and choose not to override it.
You might even text yourself a note when something activates during your busy day. A tight jaw. A sinking stomach. A sudden wave of emotion. Then return to it later when you have a few minutes alone.
When you sit down, invite that sensation forward.
Be with your body and the feeling at the same time.
Ask softly, “What do you need?”
Sometimes the body just needs presence.
Sometimes it needs acknowledgment.
Sometimes it needs to cry what it could not cry before.
Healing does not always look like breakthroughs.
Sometimes it looks like sitting in the dark while the sun rises slowly.
Breathing.
Being.
Letting the body complete what it has been holding.