10/06/2022
My grandma has a painting hanging over the bed I sleep in when I stay at her house. In the foreground, a woman is perched on a rocky ledge, her legs dangling over a drop that stretches out of frame. Surrounding her, almost swallowing her up, in red, orange, and lavender strokes, are the walls of the Grand Canyon. A silver ribbon etches the valley floor far below.
I used to get lost in this scene, imagining what it might feel like to touch so much open space. I created whole sagas about the adventurer and her pilgrimage to the red canyon, her falcon and coyote companions, the types of letters she’d write home, the types of songs she’d write for the sky. I’d fall asleep climbing the architecture of these worlds, and the canyon would follow me into my dreams.
Maybe you remember daydreaming like this as a kid. When your imagination was elastic, boundless as the bright blue sky.
Somewhere along the way, we were told it’s unproductive, self-indulgent even, to let our minds wander. And the horizon of what we could imagine closed in on us.
But here’s the secret. Our capacity for wonder is still in tact. As is our ability to imagine worlds beyond our current reality. We are naturally creative because we are creation itself.
Every major idea, change, or pivot I’ve made in my own life over the last 6 years was ushered through in a space where I could stretch my imagination. Where my vision wasn’t clouded by the imprints of my everyday grooves and demands. A quiet, vast, and solitary perch where my spirit finds freedom. Where I can breathe.
This is what we explore during guided breathwork aka Daydreaming for Adults. Next one is this Saturday at 8pm EST and this time I’m thinking of having a recorded option so you have the opportunity to soar in your own time. Sign up link in bio 🦅
Pics 1 & 3 - My home canyon in the Appalachians, the Blackwater. 2 - last night’s card pull ✨🃏
