A reflection on cycles, trust, and the illusion of doing nothing.

Lately, I’ve been feeling… slower. Or at least, that’s what I told myself.
But when I look closer, the only thing that’s really slowed down is my writing.

And even that, not because there’s nothing to say. Quite the opposite: so much is happening.
So many insights, changes, loves, lessons, awakenings…

So why do I measure my worth by how much I produce?
Why do I still fall into the trap of measuring myself at all?

A dear friend once told me:
“It’s all waves; sometimes we ride them, sometimes we dive beneath.”

Maybe this “slowdown” is not a pause, but a portal.
A moment of integration. A time to listen, digest, melt into myself.

And yet… something in me resists.

Because even now, when I look at what I’ve actually done during this so-called slowdown—it’s a lot:
Bodywork sessions, healing treatments, deep rest, aching back (for the first time!), love-making under the sky, guiding a spontaneous workshop, being held, and holding…

So where’s the “slow”?

Maybe it’s not my pace that changed, just my perception.
Maybe it’s not the cash in my wallet or the posts on my feed that define my value.
Maybe it’s the breath between them.

Where is my trust?
My cosmic optimism?
My knowing that life is always flowing?

The truth is…
I live a life many would dream of. I’m free to choose when I work and when I rest.
I get to do what I love.
I move through this world like a soft storm, learning, growing, dancing, resting.

And yet I judge myself… for not “doing enough.”

So I take a breath.

I remind myself:
I am allowed to be tender. I am allowed to pause. I am allowed to be human.

I wanted to dive into the depths,
To feel the pain, to touch the shadows, to meet the mystery of sadness…

But maybe
Not this time.