I could barely form a thought, let alone write a blog post.

I felt little down. And I felt guilty and weird about feeling let down. But then in the afternoon, coaching a writing client, we were talking about how fighting yourself never works and I thought, “That’s what I’ve been doing all day. Fighting myself for being let down and exhausted.”

So I stopped and noticed I was let down, exhausted and wanting to hide from the world. And I didn’t, as the amazing Havi says, let that impress me. I gave myself some time to cry and snuggle and just notice. And then I read Naomi who always makes me feel hopeful. Then I went to the library and got some good novels to read when I finish Kathleen Norris’s great book. And hugged Bob and the dogs a lot. And Karen sent me this blog post which also helped.

Then in my writer’s group last night, Margaret said, “I couldn’t settle today. I kept feeling something should happen.” That made me feel less alone. Which is always good.

Then she went on to say that she wished the U.S. did things like her native U.K., “There’s a moving van waiting at the back door of 10 Downing Street to take the old guy out as the new guy’s moving in at the front.”

We have to wait 74 more days give or take a day I might have lost while napping.

I have an idea: let’s not wait. As Lisa said on Twitter “Can you take this breathless moment of shared hope and exhale it into our tomorrows?”

Let’s start exhaling now.

Let’s exhale our shared hope in small and vital ways and start preparing the way for the new year. Let’s work on our courage and resilience and vision so we’re ready to be part of the change. Let’s clear out the old within ourselves, our habits, our beliefs so we can have the energy and courage to help.

Because watching history being made on Tuesday, I kept thinking, “I want to be that great, too.”  Which may sound flamingly ego-mad crazy but isn’t that what great leadership and authentic hope can do, inspire us toward our own greatness?

Let’s begin to ask my favorite question from Viktor Frankl, “What purpose can I make of my life today?” Let’s ask it everyday. Not to find the answer but to allow the question to guide us. (You know I love questions!)

Are you yearning to express your greatness?

If so, what one thing might you love and accept about yourself in this moment so your greatness can shine?

I’d be honored to hear.

And finally, that story I promised you

in what now seems like a different century about the power of moving your body.

Last year I led a weekend retreat centered around rest and inner listening and it included a fair amount of movement with the totally embodied and inspiring Camille Maurine. The participants had come hoping to recapture a spark of joy, a sense of themselves free from “shoulds” and to-do lists. The movement exercises turned out to be the most challenging part of the retreat for a number of the women—and the most life-changing.

In the first exercise, I asked the group to ask their bodies (not their minds) to show them what their everyday life felt like. The circle exploded into hopping, running, grabbing, marching, and slumping. Then we came to a pause, breathed, and noticed how this felt.

Next I asked the group, “What does your sacred pause look like?” It looked like this: graceful swaying, arms opening and extending, breath slowing and deepening. The contrast was startling. But as we continued the exercise with different questions and expressions, I saw one group member, Kit, bolt from the room and several other women who were barely moving.

At a break, I found Kit on a bench overlooking the city. “How are you?” I asked. “Scared,” she said. “It feels like there is this roar inside of me. I want to let it out, but I’m afraid what might happen if I do.” We talked about giving herself permission, being kind to herself, taking it at her own pace—the most important advice when befriending the body’s wisdom.

Walking back to my cabin later, I marveled at how convincingly real our fear can feel, how seemingly impenetrable in its accumulation. Not just a box but a fortress. I asked Camille, “What are we so afraid of?”

Consciousness is a great mystery,” Camille said. “That we can be aware of our own existence is a marvel, but consciousness is also a mixed blessing. Awareness of being alive brings awareness of death, and the more aware we are, the more we feel. Movement brings us smack into contact with that wonder and awe—through sensation, through the breath—and that can be a scary awakening.”

The retreat unfolded beautifully: movement, journaling, and silent time outdoors slowly worked miracles, peeling away our layers of fear, rushing, and self-judgment. I noticed how much younger we all looked, and how much more laughter filled the center. We were discovering how thrilling it is when we reclaim our juice for living, our very life force, when we open our arms to ourselves and abandon our somatic ruts.

After dinner on the second day, Elizabeth told me this story:

When you asked us to move the first morning, I froze. I didn’t want to look stupid or stand out. But then I had an experience that changed everything. I took a walk after our class, and the young girl who lives here joined me. We stopped to watch a horse being shod, and she brought me a handful of flowers and said, ‘I am so lucky to live here!’ As she said this, her body dipped into a squat and popped up again—spontaneous movement! I thought, ‘This child didn’t wonder how to express herself or whether it was acceptable. She just moved.’

Later, in Camille’s class, when she asked us not to move until the impulse came from within, I thought of that girl. I sat frozen for five minutes, determined not to move until my body was ready, reliving every awkward moment of my teenage years, all the times I had learned to physically shut down. When the impulse finally came, it was so exhilarating. My body was breathing me. It was like my mind was a bystander, and as I watched, it was my body telling me stories. As it finished one, I’d get quiet and still, and then another story would pour out. It was breathtaking.”

To the power of love, change, hope, courage and moving our bodies!

This is the first part of an essay originally published in Body+Soul a few years back.  It popped into my mind during yoga because I was so proud of myself for being on my mat again, for just five minutes. Especially today when all I want to do is surf news sites.

It’s mid afternoon

and I’m feeling the itch to move my body, but instead I return phone calls, wipe the kitchen counter, sort my daughter Lilly’s school papers. I haven’t really moved in almost two weeks and I’m in “the box,” a place of parched fear, scratchy over-analyzing, and tart self-judgment.

I find myself here about five or six times a year, whenever I allow life to push me faster than I can keep pace spiritually and emotionally or whenever fear burbles in the background and I won’t stop to see what it wants. Then I narrow my focus to the bandwidth of “just get it done,” and when I lift my head, I find I’m in need of a major blast of passion and perspective but afraid to move toward it. The longer I’m in the box (or on the gerbil wheel or in the washing machine, pick your metaphor), the more tight and fearful I become.

I know what will free me and what will certainly comfort me:

allowing my body, not my mind, to move. Not to burn calories or tone my thighs or perfect a yoga pose but to shake and holler and swoop and let the energy move through me. Conscious movement (anything from free form funky yoga to whirling and wailing to Dance of Shiva) moves the stuck energy of holy-hell-what-if and judgments and hurry-up-freak-out so there is a little bit of space for ahh…

I’m okay right now.

Here I am.

Ahhh…. now what do I need right now to take care of myself?

The simplest thing I can do when I am afraid is to move but because it means feeling and letting go, I do everything but move

Tomorrow: a story to inspire you to move from one of my retreats.  In the meantime, why not step away from your computer right now and stretch your arms over head and sigh. Wiggle your hips. Look for something in your environment that gives you pleasure. Ahhh…

We are all feeling the tension of the impending election and we can so easily hold that tension in our bodies in ways that make us tired and grumpy and more fearful.  Why not let loose today- even just a teeny bit feels so good!