The world has felt a bit overwhelming recently. Every day my news feed refreshes itself and I feel one spade deeper into disquiet. The skies here have been gray and there has been a general feeling of downtrodden timelessness. Mornings that look like evenings that look like the beginning of night.
I have a tendency, especially on gray days, to take things pretty seriously. Human rights, the environment, the state of things. But perhaps the thing I hold with the most seriousness of all is my own self. The sacred crux of my personal work, my responsibility to grow. The knowledge that all change begins on an individual scale, with my agreement to continue to examine, to dismantle, to expand.
And it’s good, it’s needed. But sometimes I get so serious about the path of self work and personal responsibility that it begins to feel as if my growth is also my greatest confinement. Even my self care regime (yoga, meditation, reading, repeat!) starts to feel like just another To-Do.
That’s when I know, it’s time to just let it be light.
I hear, often, the idea that self care is a kind of activism. And I agree. Tending the inner wells is a practice that nourishes a much larger reality. But what about the idea of self care without an end goal? Self care for its own sake, without it needing to be political, radical, or even useful?
What if, sometimes, taking care of ourselves doesn’t need to be utile at all?
What if, instead, you gave yourself permission to engage in a totally luxurious sabbatical of self joy? Now clearly, I’m not suggesting a whole scale permanent check out from the waves of the world, but sometimes our hearts need a great shock of goodness, of levity and joy, to be able to become a part of things once more.
So, for this week, ditch the various To-Do’s of self care, of being a good person, the right person, for this world and just try cultivating self joy.
In the midst of a hard week last week I started doing something revolutionary. An hour before bedtime I turned off my phone, my computer, my work mind and just felt into what I truly wanted. I even let go of my normal routine of what-I-do-in-my-down-time (yoga, mediation, reading, repeat!). And instead I just let, as Mary Oliver says, the soft animal of my body love what it loves.
So I ended up taking a lot of baths, a ridiculously luxurious amount of baths. I ended up eating chocolate tarts. I danced for a long time in front of the mirror and tried on different outfits for fun. I watercolored, a practice that feels so liberating simply because I have no idea what I’m doing.
My dreams have all been pointing me in this direction as well. Even though we are moving through such deep times lately, every night I’m dreaming of dinner parties, and strolls on the boardwalk, easeful gatherings and wine. Of pleasure as an important part of life. And every morning I wake up with the same quiet voice whispering… you are allowed to let it be light.
So many of us worry that if we let something be light (anything!) we’ll somehow fall off the bandwagon of our responsibility to reality. But what if our ability to respond to the world is intricately tied to our capacity to find, and ultimately embody, the light?
To let something be light is to recognize the full spectrum of its identity, its essence and personhood. To let something be light is to allow the source behind all things to shine through. To allow the nature of nature to make itself known. To notice possibilities, to be open to the divinity that wants to glimmer up from within the deep. Whether it’s funny political commentary, or the way the winter sun feels warm on your face. Or your desire to put on a witch-cape and dance to Stevie Nicks.
Let it be light.
Let it be fun. Roll around in the yard and make pancakes. Wear something goofy for a day. Build a blanket fort in the living room and spend the night reading in there by flashlight. Get take-out. Open a fortune cookie. Remember what joyful living feels like.
Shadow work may be active, but the only way we can truly stay sane (and potent) during this time is to remember the truth — that the shadow is simply a by-product of the light.
So take a vacation, even if it’s only for an afternoon.
Because isn’t this the very preciousness that we are working so hard to preserve — the dream that all beings may be free to experience the joy of their aliveness?
The ultimate goal of a vacation is not to whisk us away, it is to help us to return. So take a vacation of self joy this week. And you will be surprised how very bright, and powerful, you will feel when you come back.