When the body demands a downshift
It’s been a whole three months since I’ve written to you – not that anyone was counting but me. And, it was about pickles, not Mind Organizing, so it hardly counts. Like catching up with an old friend, I’m torn between giving you a comprehensive overview of major updates and jumping into the minutiae of what’s going on right now.
We’ll start with the most time sensitive thing: office hours are next Thursday 4/9/26 in the form of “hot seat” group coaching. You can learn more and sign up here. It’s free and spots are limited, so please nab one if you can commit to coming. If you can’t join, send it to a friend or colleague?
On to the less time sensitive stuff:
“Leah, what have you been doing these past 3 months while not emailing us?”
Well, since you asked, the word that comes to mind is retreat.
I retreated from the patterns and places I usually inhabit. I turned down the volume, released the efforts, and spent an ungodly amount of time laying. I was in actual repose. This was not a designed retreat, it came to me more than I came to it. Piece by piece, I had to let go of things that no longer felt sustainable and say yes to the little glimmers of light along the unknown paths unfolding in front of me.
When I think of retreat, I think of artists in fancy villas in Italy or rustic cabins in the woods, executives going to Hawaii or Banff to become “conscious,” or people doing downward dog in the morning and surfing in the afternoon. I do not think of myself laying on any surface that will have me.
For the past 3 years I’ve been dealing with a mysterious chronic illness. It is the type of illness Western medicine is not designed to treat. It is not life threatening, not lucrative or heroic to cure, and relates to a woman’s body-mind-spirit.
In case you are curious, here’s what my “retreat" looked like:
First I trimmed the coaching tree. I focused on supporting a handful of clients and nothing else. I didn’t consistently have the capacity to do more. Accepting that was the beginning.
I also cut out most socializing. Anything that centered around eating, drinking, or me having the energy to be somewhere at a certain time was not really in the cards.
The creative energy I did have, I channeled towards myself. Sometimes, unfortunately, that took the form of medical figuring-out. Other times, it went into life-giving projects like my Pickle Zine.
I also knew travel was part of the medicine I needed. My husband, Gab, and I finally had work flexibility that aligned (it only took seven years), so we spent January working (and laying) remote in a place known as the “Magic Island.” On the map you’ll find it marked as Florianopolis, Brazil.
I thought I was going on an adventure - of the likes I had been pining for since my pre-covid sabbatical days. No return ticket, no agenda, just a carefully packed carry-on bag and a “go where the wind blows me” attitude.
Instead, I found myself on a healing journey. One that I have yet to fully understand or integrate, but that has already had ripple effects through my body, life, and work. Florianopolis allowed even more slowing down, and in a way that didn’t feel as full of grief and tension as it did in New York.
I only knew a handful of people there, so I could introvert hard. I had the consistent presence of Gab to keep that introversion from sliding into loneliness or isolation. The lifestyle allowed me to nourish myself in ways that are much less accessible to me in New York. I found gentle foods, abundant time in nature, dance, music, massage, and ceremony. Embodied movement ceremonies, spiritual ceremonies, ayahuasca ceremonies.
New York’s energy downshifted into rhythms and warmth my body needed. I gave myself even more permission to be tired or unmotivated. It’s much easier to not feel bad about “doing” stuff when not-doing means laying on a hammock watching the shadows of leaves dance in the wind.
I’ve come back slowly, with an intent to keep as much of the sacred space, supports, and rhythms I found while retreating. Some weeks I’m better at that than others, but it’s going. My health seems to be continuing in the direction of more vitality and less fragility. My creative and coaching practices are shooting new buds, but if they weren’t, that would be ok too. In the case of Brain Massages and Group Coaching, it feels like a stem that is growing after being cut back over the winter. It survived and that alone is something. It may grow into a new shape or shoot, but I feel connected and committed to it in a deeper way than ever before.
