What Did You Do Before You Learned to Be Knotted?

When my first baby was born, we marveled at how unknotted his back was. Nine months in water, zero time bearing weight, no tension yet...the way life should begin, right?

I've had over a decade to reflect on this: When was the last time I felt that way?

Fourth grade was the last time I remember being bored.

I wandered neighborhoods on my banana-seat bicycle. I wrote stories and bound them with little report covers--my own publishing house. Pretended to run businesses. Took care of stuffed animals like they were real. One time I lit my finger on fire doing an experiment to make the edges of a paper look "old." 

No agenda. Just making things because it felt good and occasionally getting burned in the process.

These experiences come to mind because the present moment feels awfully knotted. The ground beneath us feels shaky, and when I don't know the way forward, I look back. (By the way, if you're celebrating Easter this week, my pal Jan has a great reflection on the shakiness at her blog here). 

It's something different than nostalgia, but a mining process, to find the practices that unknotted me before I knew what tense muscles were.

Art. Rest. Boredom. Imagination.

Imagination is the root of empathy. Empathy connects us to each other, to purpose, to planet—to past and future.

Fourth-grade me binding stories wasn't escaping reality, but she was practicing how to make meaning when things don't make sense. How to create when creation feels impossible.

I needed notebook paper and a pencil, and time and space to imagine. I learned over the weekend, when I took that up again, that adult me still benefits from those things.

So this week you're invited to reflect: What did you do before you learned to be knotted?

Not what you were good at. Not what you were praised for. Not what you did to make money or be successful. 

But what did you do because it felt true?

Maybe it's time to go back there and reconnect for a while. You don't have to stay, but it will help you remember the way forward when things feel shaky.

This reflection is part of Wayfinder's Weekly, my free Monday newsletter for people navigating threshold seasons. Subscribe here

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