Year 3
the soft underbelly
We hit our third anniversary of living in the desert last month while on a trip away from it. The desert anniversaries feel more reflective and a more meaningful passing of time to me than a birthday. Maybe because they encompass a lot more than my own journey on this planet and encompass the two of us and place.
We sat outside and thought about this past year only to realize on the surface, nothing exactly changed. Our community? Generally the same, only more intentional and substantial relationships that we’ve invested in growing. The house? Just more of our daily transits engrained into the floors, our weight further imprinting on the mattress and couch cushions, and more cat hair collected in the corners.
The desert was still the desert, subject to the seasons both wet and dry. We still worship the celestial events so visible out here, awaiting the text from our friends simply saying “moon” when it’s a good one and to go look. The stars continue to completely shock us when we look up despite knowing they are there every single night. It’s the consistency, even the consistency of change, that gave this past year the feeling of stability.
If year one was about connection, and year two was an expansion - year three was a softening. Over the course of the past twelve months, I’ve slowly been turning myself over, my soft underbelly now exposed.
The past year has felt like a shedding and a regeneration from the inside. I feel more comfortable in my own skin and body than I ever have before. They say with age comes caring less.
Deepening and softening could seem akin to a stretch (thinking back on the expansion theme from last year), but I’m leaning into the practice of surrendering versus effort. Softening doesn’t require as much awareness of a limit or a precise calculation of restraint as purposefully stretching might. It requires a relaxation, a giving up on holding on too tight, but most importantly, it requires time.
Sthira and sukha - the concept of balancing effort and ease during a yoga - is foundational to the practice. One must utilize both at the same time to hold a posture while simultaneously being able to breathe freely. This concept is how I remain calm in stressful situations, regulate myself, and practice patience in all parts of my life. In this season, I don’t know how important it is to always balance the two concepts in the exact same moment. It might not be about holding two conflicting truths at once all of the time, but being able to discern when one needs to outweigh the other, even for a little while.
I can’t tell you why now, with the softening. Why now, I no longer want to carry the weight of a hard shell I’ve found purpose in carrying for most of my life. Protecting me from what? I’ve searched my brain and no single event comes to the surface. I just don’t care about it anymore. Is that aging too?
Maybe it’s 1,000+ sunsets I’ve watched from our front yard and the overwhelming beauty of the sky. Maybe it’s the sweetness of watching coyotes grow up from pup to adult pack over the course of multiple years and how they let us admire them from only a few feet away. Maybe it’s just the passing of time.
I used to imagine my skin after years in the desert - would it turn permanently dry and cracked? Prematurely aged? Could I eventually walk around outside without shoes and not feel a thing?
It’s been three years and I still haven’t hardened. I’ve found purpose in nurturing what’s underneath.
Love,
Lily
