The spider’s web is web of protection around art-making, around play, and around intentional community. It is an offering for spaciousness from social media. This work is meant to bring hope back into creation. This work allows me to take time with my daily practice, with myself, and with my communities that feels easeful in my body. I hope that these offerings will bring you more ease and consideration in your own body.
Thank you for joining me here. Y’all are welcome to share this offering with your communities. I just ask that you credit my work
@meredithannewhite
. Thank you so much <3
I come to you with an offering today on leaning into trust with ourselves. It feels incredibly relevant for me right now, and therefore, it may be relevant for some of you as well. It’s absolutely not the easiest place to be, the place of trusting ourselves. I think most of the spaces we operate around are a thousand percent contingent on the fact that we are not supposed to trust ourselves. Woah!
Drawing on a rock over the N Cal coast captured by Kevin Brown on 35mm.
What would it feel like to reclaim narratives for ourselves outside of what any one else is telling us is “right?”
I am no doctor. I am not a therapist. I am just an artist that comes up with questions and presents them here. I offer this question to say that, the more I sink into a relationship with my own body, the more I find that my body will continue to be in conversation with me about its needs.
How do we continue to listen to our bodies when we’ve been severed from their presence in our lives for so long?
How do we reclaim conversations with our bodies when the circumstances around us tell us our bodies are working against us at any given moment?
It feels like lately I’ve been walking this tight rope between trust, surrender, patience, and taking action towards my goals. And that is a wild place to be. In my head it’s like “do less, do more, pay attention to the signs, don’t go that way, that is wrong, over there could be better for you!” And this inner dialogue is absolutely exhausting. It feels like there’s this incredibly fine line between sinking into trust with myself and my body, allowing for circumstances to make themselves known, and plowing through the doors of opportunity anyway because I’m ready to take action.
And maybe you feel this way too?
I’ve been so detached from my body for so many years, that as I continue to reacquaint myself with my myself, all of these little pockets of knowing start to flutter back into place. I use the word flutter lightly because it doesn’t always feel like a flutter and maybe it’s more like an earthquake. But it absolutely wakes me up to another piece of myself that’s been so deeply buried.
This often surfaces for me as pockets of tension. This often surfaces for me as I notice a place on my body I continue to touch while stressed, experiencing joy, or feel uncomfortable. This often surfaces for me while stretching. It can be so many things.
Some notable places of discovery with my body:
Deb pulling out frames of honey to take inside for harvesting late summer on 35mm. Deb is my next door neighbor who I began beekeeping with at the beginning of 2021.
Eating warm food that lights my body up from the inside out. It’s also sipping warm tea with honey from my neighbor’s bees that is a blessing <3
Quilt raffle with bleeding moon imagery appliquéd with repurposed materials like napkins, tablecloths, and sheets.
Quilting, stitching, moving slow with this craft while taking breaths. Then I get to use this item to come back to body and move slow. A quilt allows me to rest. A quilt allows me to go outside and bring company to have a picnic. It is so many things for me. Quilting is an act of resistance! I owe so much of this practice to Marlee who allowed me a queer-friendly space to quilt and offers classes! Much more to say on quilting in another newsletter.
Spiral snake sweatshirt created for a sweet little human in my life that loves my snake Nelson.
Making Sweatshirts and then wearing those sweatshirts and touching them when moments of discomfort come up to bring me back into body. I’m able to follow the stitching with my fingers and trace the messages of protection throughout. I can trace these places of empowerment over my heart and my solar plexus.
Meri leading a guided stone meditation in the forest on expired 35mm film.
Laying in the grass and stretching, moving my body, meditating with friends outside. I miss this right now and working to find another resource for this during the colder months.
How might I hold onto the knowing that my path is my path is my path?
How might I sink into more trust with myself and less comparison for what those around me are doing?
Because when I really, really, deeply sink into my body and allow it to tell me what’s going on there is a sense of “you absolutely are doing it.” And so when the world is crumbling around me and my existential dread goes through the roof, I have that little piece of knowing in my core reminding me that I am using my voice here to show up for myself and you all. I am reminded that change takes time. I repeat, in order for growth to occur, it takes time. It is a practice much like everything else we do. And with constant action, with absolute fuckin courage, I whole-heartedly believe the ripples begin to move outward from the source.
This is something I keep coming back to and taking mental notes of. Better yet, writing these things down when they happen helps significantly. Because baby girl has been rambling on these topics for as long as I can remember, and it’s important for me to take a step back and realize the journey at which I’ve been operating at.
I see the ripples come into play when I notice my journey with sewing. I notice my journey with writing and being able to show up here consistently. I notice my deepend relationships with community. I’m better able to communicate with those around me. These are big moments of celebration for me, so I offer this to you:
Where might you notice the ripples around you?
Because they are there. Thank you for showing up for yourself. Hold onto your trust. Hold onto your vision. Because no one else is going to do that for you each and every day. I honor that!
As always, thank you so very much for being here and making space for yourself and this practice today whenever you find this. I am so grateful. And a further update, I am still wearing my rain drop sweatshirt. It will be on my body until I make myself and you all a million more sweaters.
Thank you for joining me here. Y’all are welcome to share this offering with your communities. I just ask that you credit my work
@meredithannewhite
. Thank you so much <3