This week I didn’t go to Buddhafield.

I didn’t dance in a throng of hippies. I didn’t sit round a campfire, tooting my clarinet ’til dawn. I didn’t do the hour-long improvised show that I was booked to perform. Instead I stayed at home, tending to my exhausted body. 

I didn’t have much of a choice. 

Parts of me were chomping at the bit to go to the festival:

My Performance-Researcher was eager to perform the third part of her trilogy, which began in January this year.

My Free-Spirit was desperate to dance and play and sing with old friends and new.

But My Body said, “NO!” 

My body said, “For fuck’s sake Holly! I am not a fucking machine! I have shown up for you for months on end, and now I need you to show up for me!”

Riddled with FOMO, I resentfully rested in my tiny, hot flat.

In amongst the huffing and the puffing, I stumbled upon a week-long online writing challenge called Writing From The Body. 

Each day, transformational memoir-writing teacher and somatic healing practitioner, Janelle Hardy, offered a body-based / movement exploration, before inviting us to free-write for around 30 minutes.

This daily practice helped me tune into my body and really hear what it had to say...

Body: Look, I’ve taken everything you’ve thrown at me,

The non-stop work, the relentless trains, 

Heavy bags, strange beds, 

Long days, short stays,

Holding space for hundreds of folks,

To meet themselves in play.

You know that you can trust me!

I’m sturdy, strong and supple,

Whenever there’s a wobble,

I let it ripple through.

You don't even need to think about it.

I just know what to do.

But lately you’ve been taking the piss.

I told you I needed a rest.

I sent you signals back in Spring,

When you couldn’t get out of bed.

But you kept on doing all the things.

And more and more and more!

Please can you take me seriously,

Now I’m lying on the floor?

Holly: I’m deeply sorry, Body, 

Thank you so much, my love,

You’ve always been a good friend to me.

And I appreciate your slog.

There were some spaces left for you,

And then came tragedy.

We lost two family members in May,

And I tended to the grief.

But I'm here right now, dear Body,

Making space for you.

Tell me what you need, my love,

and I’ll see what I can do.

Body: I need to regularly be alone, to be quiet and still and to breathe.

I need to float in flowing water, weightless, immersed and free. 

I need to be in nature, with every shade of green.

I need to move, to stretch, to dance, to shake, to wiggle and play.

I need to be touched and squeezed and held in tender loving care.

I need less crisps, more fruit and veg and much more water to drink!

MOST OF THE TIME I’M THIRSTY, JUST DRINK MORE WATER, BITCH!

I love this life you’ve built for us, but I need you to promise me this,

I need you to take better care of me and just stop taking the piss!

Holly: OK, deal, I’ll do it.

I’ll make more time for you.

I’ll ask you what you need,

And I’ll try to follow through.

Sometimes I might forget you.

Please tell me when I do.

You are my only body,

and I love you!

Want to try it?

This conversation emerged from a daily practice called Writing From The Body, facilitated by Janelle Hardy.

Here’s my version of Janelle’s prompt:

1.) Stand up and feel your feet on the ground - maybe play with transferring your weight from foot to foot, or rocking up and down the length of your feet. Feel the contact with the earth.

2.) Now have a little shake to loosen up your body. Feel your body as it shakes. Release your breath through your mouth.

3.) Now, come to stillness and imagine someone is standing behind you. They bop your knees with theirs - your knees will bend and your body will flow and ripple until it rights itself.

4.) Try this a few times in different ways - slow, fast, little, big, allowing the movement to ripple through the whole of your body. Include your breath in your exploration.

5.) Notice sensations, images, memories, emotions or impulses as you move.

6.) Then set a timer for 10–20 minutes and write without stopping. Don't worry about making it good. Don't edit. Don't censor. Just let the pen move across the page.

Other related blogs 

• How to chat with your parts on the page - a comprehensive how to guide.
• Hello again, old familiar hole - my meeting with burn out earlier this year.
• This years Performance Research #1- a semi-improvised performance lecture at the BADth conference in January.
• This years Performance Research #2- a fully improvised keynote at Counterplay in Denmark in May.
• Making Space to Belong - some big changes I'm making this autumn.