Author: Joanna Marquis
Self-care. We talk a lot about it.
Here, at Blue Ridge Hemp and all over the world.
What is it? What does it look like for you? How can we make more space for it?
In a fast-growing, entrepreneurial world we seem to have to show up for ourselves and our peers with more energy and enthusiasm than ever before.
The energy to make our dreams come true.
The energy for creating the world in which we will all (hopefully) thrive…
Connect, network and support one another.
Self-care looks like a lot of things these days.
Yoga. Smoothies. Gardens. Long Baths. Naps.
Yet, as I awoke this morning, laying next to my 4 year old daughter, I wondered what self-care feels like for her; or what it felt like for me as a child.
I look back and I can’t even remember having those thoughts, or needing what it seems almost every adult rapidly desires.
It probably looked like the golden sun blazing through the greenest leaves and tall grasses of New England.
The sun’s rays kissing my skin by the gust of every soft breeze.
Climbing warm rock walls into safe, imaginative trees.
Bare feet sinking into smooth sand beneath silky streams,
finding the coldest grey clay to throw at our neighbors.
Leaves were money. Old, rotted and dried wood; chicken.
Remembering exactly when it was salamander season,
and when to tap trees for maple syrup. Snow forts and tunnels.
When I think of all this, I remember presence. Effortless presence.
It was my self-care. Nothing could take away those pristine memories of play.
Do you experience moments with the same awareness, zest, excitement?
Can you taste everything so that you never forget?
What would be better than to give yourself 100% to the moments in front of you?
More than taking photos of every plate of food, or sunrise, sunsets…
but to embody the wild curiosity of presence.
As a parent, I find myself reflecting upon how present I can actually be for my daughter.
She demands nothing less than undivided dedication to it.
It’s so easy to feel like you have something more important or entertaining to do,
when your child asks to get in some mud and pretend your warriors.
I imagine her only focus is, right there, in the those moments.
No thoughts of making sure its captured, or being somewhere else.
Unless, she looses interest…
and expresses honestly, without hesitation, that its time for something else.
I want to bring these sweet, simple lessons of childhood back to my own being.
We too easily become swept up in our phones, in our life dramas.
Let us live fully, deeply.
For one another, for ourselves.
Show up every moment the best you can.
Focus on how your actually showing up vs. what your trying to look like to others online.
Children are our little teachers.