In a conversation with one of my dearest friends awhile back, she suggested I send out a question for reflection in the lead up to each Limns post, based off of the theme of the post. I thought it was a lovely idea, but until now, haven’t had the time to get around to it.
For the next few months, I will experiment with this new format, interweaving a prompt into each month for you to journal about, think about, or debate with loved ones. Let me know whether you enjoy these prompts, and if they add an extra layer to the curiosity either in the comments below, or by emailing me directly at finnegan.shepard@gmail.com.
Without further ado, here is the prompt for the month:
When you picture a state of calm, how do you imagine it? Paint a picture of it (in words, image, thought). Is this a state you experience frequently (or ever)? If not, then what do you think would have to change before you could access this state?
Bonus points for anyone who is willing to share their response in the comments below. You will help inspire others and spark inspiration :)
Love this idea, and prompt.
Calm is... my mind when I catch myself and am “the observer”...
When I use all I’ve learned the last few years in the hard but ultimately worthy, and now easier, practice of mindfulness.
Calm are my 4am mornings (despite my young children often awaking too early and asking for help or my love and attention in some way 🥰).
I manage to sit in my rocking chair, at my white desk facing the window - I see trees, snow, grass... hear birds, my windchimes... I see and feel the sun slowwwwly rising in the east window ... I have build a beautiful routine with my noise-cancelling headphones 😊🎧, my guided meditations and breathwork, my prayer journal, my devotional, my rosary, my tarot card, my books, my eyes closed and heart opened, in union and embracing the light, listening, talking, and communing with God. 💙 It’s the best!
To me, calm is a state of congruence: whether it’s myself or something external that I’m considering, calm is when the pieces fit together in a way that is correct. To lack calmness is to feel disjointed, like something is incorrect in a scene or self. I think about it in terms of levels of severity of a dislocated bone, where you can feel that something just needs to pop back into place.
For myself, I struggle to find calm (a statement that feels contradictory). There are times when the alignment happens and it’s like a flow state, a sense of ease and congruence. I think finding more calm requires a mix of approaches: on the one hand, there is acceptance of chaos and existing in an ever-changing world; but on the other, there’s seeking the mend what you see as disjointed, where internally or in the environment around you.