I’m slowly reading Sue Monk Kidd’s new book “Writing Creativity and Soul.” Apologies to the library because I am sure it is *way*way* overdue.
There’s a line that struck me this morning that feels important. She’s talking about writing and the creation of self. Monk Kidd ends with, “It’s about what we carry and what we lay down.”
I immediately had the image of laying down under a tree. Of no longer carrying my body. And not in a morbid way related to dying exactly. It was more restful, restorative, and regenerating.
Then I remember how much I love stretching my body back and laying on the rear deck of my kayak. Feeling my spine go “pop pop pop” as it stretches. Sun on my face. Relaxation. Rest. Restoration.
Soon my mind goes to laying back on the raft on the Rogue and how good that felt. Again, my back goes “pop pop pop” as my spine releases. Sun on my face. Relaxation. Rest. Restoration.
Something about being in my 50s is inviting me to lay even more things down, too. I’m no longer carrying a lot of the burdens from my childhood or my 20s. My 20s were a doozy and I wouldn’t want to relive those hard years.
I started getting curious about myself in my 30s. Examining my stories, my burdens, the things I was unconsciously, righteously, or even defiantly carrying.
Lots of self work happened in my forties – hard, hard, hard – has gotten me here today. Still with some self-work, but different. More of playful, curious exploration.
And the idea of laying down a lot feels very freeing. Very compassionate, gentle, and loving, both to me and to the people around me. I no longer feel at war with others (well, most of the time
). I no longer want to argue, debate, or get overly fired up. And I am tired. Maybe I’m entering the napping phase. “Rest as resistance” as Tricia Hershey so eloquently shares (though her work around rest has much, much, much deeper roots and cultural significance than my mid-life lady resting).
In looking for photos for this little post, I realized I have had people take quite a few photos of my “laying back” posture. Ha!
So to wrap up this meandering thought post, let’s end with the words of musician Trevor Hall, “Put down what you are carrying.”
Even if it’s just for a bit. Lay back and rest. Enjoy the stretch, enjoy the sunshine. And if you need to pick some stuff back up later, that’s fine. The gift is in both the time of rest and the choice to do it.
Put Down What You Are Carrying Lyrics
Trevor Hall
Don’t you go to war with yourself
I heard it come through the rain
Don’t you go to war with yourself
How you gonna hold all that pain, oh no
Let go, let go, let go
Put all of it out of your mind
I know, you know, we know
It’s time to
Put down what you are carrying
Put down what you are carrying (oh)
Put down what you are carrying
Put down, put down, put down, now
Put down what you are carrying
Put down what you are carrying (yeah)
Put down what you are carrying
Put down, put down, put down, now
Don’t you go to war with yourself
It don’t look good on you
(It don’t look good on you)
Don’t you go to war with yourself
You got other things to do now
(You got other things to do)
Let go, let go, let go
Of everything holding you down
(Everything holding you down)
I know, you know, we know
The time is now
Warmly,
Angie
PS: Planning the 2026 wildHER river journey – five days of nervous system restoration on a wild and scenic river. If you’ve been craving deeper healing than any half or single day retreat provides, this might be calling to you. Reply if you’d like the details when they’re ready.