My body has been asking for pause these past few days. It isn’t pain, it is something else: a gentle message that arrives the way fog does, without striking, simply settling in.
Yesterday, in the middle of the afternoon, I lay down for a while without screens, without music, without anything. Just me and my breath, which slowed like someone walking down a hill.
I find it hard to stop. I admit it. There is always something pending, a message to answer, a task that feels urgent. But the body does not understand urgency.
Today I welcomed someone who came exhausted from so much running. I offered her the same thing I offer myself: to slow down, to feel the ground, to let the shoulders drop.
It is not always necessary to do more. Sometimes caring means not doing, staying still beside what hurts.
Tonight I will go to bed early. My body asked me clearly, and for once I want to listen the first time.