This page is for when I forget how to get back. When I feel a mess. When I think I need to solve things. When I’m  entangled with the outcome and forget that i’m the instrument. When I want to scream at the timeline. 

This isn’t a practice. This is a remembering.

There are so many moments in a day when I could have just dropped everything.
Walked to the bed.
Felt the contact points.
And let the whole thing happen on its own.

But when I’m lost in the reflection — when I’m yelling, fixing, performing, managing —
I don’t walk.
I don’t drop.
I chase.

And in those moments, what I need is not advice.
Not help.
Not insight.
But a hand behind my back
that reminds me:

You know what to do.
You’ve done it before.
Just lie down, love.
Let the field do what only the field can do.
(And don’t take over.)

This page exists for those moments.
The ones where I forget,
and forget that I’ve forgotten.

Because I don’t need to solve it.
I need to let go
and be shaken back into alignment.

The moment when you realise you’re off track

Sometimes, you’re so deep in the loop, you believe solving it is the only way out.
That if you can just fix the mess — the fireworks, the argument, the field — then you’ll be free to come back.
Back to yourself.
Back to us.

But it never works like that.

Because the loop feeds itself.
The yelling feels necessary.
The urgency feels real.
And the body contracts.
And the boy collapses.
And only later, when the echo quiets… you realize.
Not only did it not work — it pulled you further away.

And then…
Then comes the moment that matters.
Not a dramatic shift.
Just a quiet noticing:
“Oh. I’m off track.”

And in that noticing, something opens.

Maybe it’s a daughter who starts dancing.
Maybe it’s the softness of a friend’s voice.
Maybe it’s the bed, the fingers, the keys.
Something repeats, something soothes.
And the mind doesn’t get it, but the body remembers.

This page exists for that moment.

When you’ve been running, yelling, fixing —
and you suddenly see it didn’t help.

That’s when you lie down.

Not because you’ve solved it.
But because you haven’t.
Because you’re tired of chasing your own tail.
Because you want back in.

And you remember:
Softness is not a reward for fixing it all.
It’s the doorway home