Slowing down under the New Pink Moon.
By Ashley York; Whimsy & While
Slowing down doesn’t come easy to me. I am hardwired to always be doing. Working. Going. Seeing. Doing. Thinking. Something. Anything.
Part of it this stems a lot from the airy and mercurial influence in my natal chart and another part is the societal capitalistic programming of production for commoditization.
I’m an 80s/90s kid. I grew up in a technology boom. A toy boom. I came from boomers. “Get good grades, go to college, work hard, buy that big house, and have a family with a solid foundation.” That program. Does it sound familiar? That was the American dream. But it also wasn’t ever my reality growing up.
The reality was that my mom worked her ass off and so did my dad when he was sober enough. Don’t get me wrong, my dad was my best friend. But he was an alcoholic. It sometimes make me cringe saying that in his death because I had a hard time admitting it to people while he was alive. Learning to manage the emotions of two adults and liaise between them and trying to pacify every tense situation surely lent itself to my adult programming. I see it playing out in my adult life and I’ve been working for a long time to peel back the layers and in a lot of ways, I’m proud of my progress. But also in a lot of ways, this programming has a way of repeating even when I thought I’ve learned to deal with it better. It’s insidious. It doesn’t go away. Our roots don’t go away, but we can amend the soil and make them stronger and healthier, so to speak.
So how did I really learn to slow down and learn the importance of rest?
Well, the pandemic, for one thing. When you’re holed up in your walls for over two years, you really have no choice but to do some deep introspective thinking. I didn’t have a chance to constantly go, see, do, repeat. I did have the chance to re-build a garden and to really absorb the metaphor of planting seeds and composting. Plant good seeds, reap what you sow, compost the waste. Or so it goes. Eventually, I did go back to work because I found myself in my head too much and it wasn’t healthy.
During that time, I also decided to really cultivate a solid yoga practice. People would ask me if I was a yogi before this. My answer was always obviously “no.” because trying a bunch at home and never really finishing a flow didn’t count.
I became a yogi the second my first instructor walked into class and read a passage about the student finding their way to the mat much like the adage, ‘when the student is ready, the teacher appears.’ I cried my way through the entire class and knew that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I became a yogi that moment when I decided to commit to the practice and to its teachings.
Slowing down is an art. Just like yoga. It’s a discipline. Just like yoga. Yoga and meditation has really taught me how to go inward and slow down. It’s taught me how to find balance in the middle of chaos (though sometimes I still forget and lose my temper.) This is being human. Yoga, meditation, and reiki have taught me how to be curious about so many things, including my perception, without the negative loops. Without the narratives that play out that aren’t real or the ones that disrupt my peace.
On this new moon, I would like to invite whoever finds this, to plant a seed. Plant your intention and cultivate it. I invite you to slow down and to pay attention. I invite you to watch this beautiful seed grow.
It might be 28 days from now you notice something beautiful. A month, a year, ten? Some things take time but if we can slow down enough, we can appreciate being right here, right now. This moment is all we are guaranteed. But if you notice something beautiful to harvest a month, year, ten years from now - nice job, you’re doing your work! And if you’ve wondered whether or not yoga is for you, I ask, why not? If you try and it’s not for you, it might not be for you. Slowing down is not just a physical process. It’s also a mental or internal process. It’s a surrender. Where can you let go? Where can you take a moment to pause?
With love and gratitude,
Ashley York
