Black widows, Irish hymns, and journaling prompts for remembering who you are
TSD #006 - tips & insights for making a slower & well-rooted life
Hello Dear Friends,
Is Autumn descending where you are? Have you seen the subtle shift in morning light as cool breezes dance across your cheeks? Have you felt the lightness in the air, reminding your soul that new days are ahead?
Have you paused to notice? I hope so. It’s beautiful.
With each turn of the wheel of the year, I’m reminded of how often change is upon us. Just as one season, one way of being, one set of habits or rituals are settled like clay under our feet, the calendar page flips ahead and a new season is at our doorstep. Change is here. I’m learning to welcome this, learning to trust that the advancing of time is in fact on my side, leading me into an impermanence that loosens my grip and reminds me to remain in a posture of letting go. Yes, there is a grief here, but I’ve found that grasping and clinging tightly to all I love has a strangling effect.
What might it look like to slow down, take a deep breath, drop your shoulders, unclench your fists, and open your hands—releasing what wants to go and welcoming whatever mysteries, challenges, and gifts are awaiting you?
These are the questions I’m holding as August comes to an end.
Welcome to the slow down, an occasional column featuring tips and insights for making a slow, well-rooted life. .
the slow down tip
Remember who you are. I recently took a trip to NYC with my sister. It was the first time she and I spent time together, just the two of us, in a couple of years. At the end of our day together, we moved through a bit of conflict and misunderstanding. She said something benign and I responded defensively. We’ve come a long way in our communication and were able to work through it with a surprising degree of self-awareness and care. What was most striking was how she subtly held up a mirror to me, exposing how I was living from scripts that were out of alignment with my values. It’s confronting when someone you love and trust holds up that mirror. It’s easier to deflect, defend, and deny, but she was right. In the hustle and busyness of summer, and in the pressure I was feeling to perform and avoid failure, I’d lost myself. This happens. We all lose sight of who we are from time to time. By talking it through with her, I realized that I’d been moving so fast and trying so hard to be perfect that I was no longer living in alignment with my values.
Speed, and the fear that often underlies our anxious striving, tend to distort our perspective. It’s like looking out the window while riding train, everything is moving by so fast that you can’t really make out any single part of it. It’s a blur. Life can be like this sometimes; it happens. There’s no shame in this. There is, however, an invitation: slow down and remember you are.
If you’d like to make this a practice, you can carve out some time and reflect on the questions below:
With summer coming to an end, what might it look like for me to slow down and come home to myself again?
What are the habits, places, or practices I’m being invited to let go of in this moment?
What values would I like to deepen my commitment to in the weeks and months ahead?
nature speaks
I’ve recently been companioned by a couple of black widow spiders. Strange, I know. It’s not quite October which is when one might make much of spiders, webs, and spooky things, but alas, the black widows are here. Generally speaking, I am pro-spider. Not in my house, but around my house. They cut down on other critters and so I count them as allies in keeping our home bug free. But black widows have a scary reputation so I’m never sure whether or not letting them live is the best idea.
There are two prominent black widows in my life. There’s one that lives somewhere around my front door and one that lives inside the package bin outside of our fence. I’ve only ever seen the front-door-guardian one time: it was late at night, around 1 AM, and it was raining. My dog was whining to go outside so I opened the front door to let him out and found the black widow masterfully and quickly spinning prey in her web. It was intimidating but incredible. I was terrified and captivated. She seemed completely unfazed by the rain, by the darkness, and by the human watching her process. It was other-worldly.
The package-bin black widow and I cross paths more often. Our sightings of one another are always brief as she runs to hide whenever the bin is opened. One day last week, while collecting the day’s deliveries, I noticed that she and I were not alone. There were four or five other tiny black widows—her offspring!—all making a life in the shadows. Admittedly, seeing all of them together stressed me out so I promptly called Alex and asked him to serve up an eviction notice to our tiny friends, but I digress…
Nature speaks: It is said that black widows represent protection, evolution, and feminine power. Yes, yes, and yes. But what I find most striking about these little companions, as “dangerous” as they may be, is that they do their best work in the dark, in the shadows, in the hidden places. While the world is asleep, they are weaving webs and making a life in the quiet, dead of night.
We often vilify the darkness because we fear it. But perhaps the black widows are teaching us that periods of darkness are not to be feared, but are to be received as invitations to transform. Perhaps, our very best work, also happens beyond the gaze of what others can see.
quotable
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.Mary Oliver, an excerpt from The Journey
off the shelf
I haven’t been reading much lately, but I’ve been doing lots of crafting and binging stationery content. It’s been delightful! Here’s the new, undated planner I’ve been working with and here is my favorite stationery YouTube channel.
worth lingering over
Song: Be Thou My Vision is one of my favorite hymns. This version is sung by the Irish folk singer Moya (Maire) Barren. It’s lovely - you can listen to Bi Thus a Mo Shúile here.
Podcast: I know that Jackie Hill Perry sparks strong feelings across the evangelical and ex-vangelical universe, so bear with me. 😅 This conversation with Dr. Sarita Lyons on With the Perry’s really blessed me so I thought I’d share it for any Black women who are navigating racial identity, faith and spirituality. It is full of wisdom and care!
In case you missed it
My last post, Resilient and fragile, all at once, is all about the slow and tender work of rebuilding trust.
Oh my goodness, that version of Be Thou My Vision...incredible.
I resonate so deeply with that tendency to lose sight of ourselves - to get lost in frantic striving & distraction. How beautiful that your sister was able to hold up that mirror for you...this is why, as a lifelong introvert, I've really been striving as an adult to extend myself more into community. I get so lost in myself without it!