We closed out January covered head to toe in mud, collecting treasures in the woods, debating whether full moons affect baby sleep and soothing ourselves by a crackling fire. It's a reflective time for us: We plan to leave London this year, but are unsure where we will next call home.
During this transitional time I've been considering what does home feel like? And can I access the felt experience of home within my body?
I notice how my body is home for my toddler, and probably my dog too. I offer them slow breaths as they rest against me so they know they are safe. I hold them soft and warm in my arms so they can reset. From here, they can adventure in the world with delight and true self-expression.
If your body is your home, how does it feel today?
Is it cosy, yet open? Are there soft furnishings that hold you in love?
Does it feel calm, a safe place that encourages you to try things without fear?
Is the light on in the main living space, around your centre, so you can see what your tender heart needs?
A few years ago I realised my space was cramped by outdated patterns, and dark from the shadows of expectations that weren't mine. Noticing this, inviting light and releasing the physical holding, was important for me to find my own path.
This is the felt experience. Listening to sensation as information about your inner world. Directing you towards what is your unique purpose. It's there, buried deep under the bones, behind the fascia, that you may start to experience your ikigai as a feeling. Perhaps as ease, a simple resonance that feels settling and light.
And it's following that feeling that can meaningfully shape a life that is your own.