There is movement in stillness

We are in motion. Movement is indeed an innate state of any living, sentient being, as much as breath, sensation or reaction. The performance of Lomi Lomi for example involves every single cell and vibration of the physical and energetic bodies. The touch, glide or stroke are all the subtle forms of movement within this process of creation and manifestation. Give and take, feel and react, direct and redirect, inhale and exhale.

Secondly, the short or long distance travel is an inherent element of life. This greater movement connects a number of scattered places on a map that we move toward, where the micro motion takes place. People always migrated because our bodies and minds are made for that.

Those who know me a little can tell how important role the movement plays in my life. How much it represents freedom and enables the manifestation of the passionate, sometimes fiery personality.

Now, I am not going to pretend that I am happy to “do-the-things-I-never-had-time-for” in the present circumstances. Because I always HAD time for them. Neither I am interested in overdoses of hurrah-optimism or corona-mentoring. There are so many of us who simply feel confined and suffocated right now. And we understand that simply resisting the forces beyond our control doesn’t lead to change. How do we find an outlet for the surging energies then?

There is movement in stillness. Imagine, stillness has your back…

These things around me. Memorabilia and their imponderabilia. All the completely useless, yet beautiful items, displayed on the shelves or placed carefully in the boxes. Every single one carry a story. Some of them were roaming for a long time until they randomly stopped here, still not sure if they wanted to settle. Other made the comfortable trips, decisively taking their seats and making themselves home, without hesitation.

The truth is, little do I know about them. Intuitively I sense the “settlers” will not linger by my side for too long, paradoxically. Taken by the ebb of life, I’ll leave them in their shelters for another passer by anytime soon. Giving the last glimpse at their fidelity and feeling grateful for their exposition and fading beauty.

The Umbrella Lady I would play “ballerina” with as a child. The antique Shiva gifted by a long forgotten lover. A picture found on Berlin street as “zu verschenken”. A succulent given by a neighbour to be watered while she went for holidays and stayed on my window forever…

What do they wish to tell me now, in the time of cholera? I guess we all need to find the inner motion now. With a little help of the quiescent friends…