An Invitation to Center

The following entry is a guided meditation written by Taylor Loesekam, and shared by Poetry Decoded co-founder, Amana Park, at their Shapes and Forms of Resistance fundraiser in support of families struggling due to the ongoing genocide in Palestine. Rooted in themes of grief, resilience, and the unyielding desire for justice, this meditation was crafted to hold space for the collective pain and yearning of those gathered. May it serve as a moment of solace, reflection, and connection to the shared hope for a more compassionate and liberated world.

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Take a moment to sit, and become aware of where you are. Breathe slowly and deeply, in and out. Place your hands gently on your lap and lower your gaze to them. Notice the texture of your skin, the temperature, the weight of your presence.

As you observe the physical details of your hands, take note of any lines, wrinkles, veins, or markings on them. These details serve as indicators of everything you've ever touched, created, and poured yourself into. The same hands that have brought you here today may also be carrying weights that feel hard to hold. As we continue to inhale, take note of what these weights may be. Grief. Confusion. Injustice. As you exhale, gently whisper what weight comes to mind for you.

Imagine your hands softening, traveling back through time. The same hands you're gazing at were once the hand of a child, of an infant. These same hands that were once just tiny embryonic cells in our mother's womb have been simmering in the bodies of ancestors who's names our brains may not be able to recall directly, but our body knows. There are studies that have shown how the mitochondria of these cells carry memory for over fifty generations.

As we continue to breathe, let us remember the history that has brought us to this very moment. As we carry and sit with our own weights, invite the memories your body holds into the room. Observe and know that while we can take the space to feel, to process, and to grieve - we may carry the wounds of our ancestors, but we carry their medicine too.

While our weights may feel heavy right now, give yourself permission to feel them, trusting that it is safe to do so in this moment. As we ground into our body's memory, you are invited to consider how the memory of this moment will impact generations ahead. Consider what you need to be able to feel, embody, and process your weights. How does our ability to feel fully today, prepare us for tomorrow?

As we return to the present, continue to breathe. Wiggle your fingers, stretch your wrists. Thank yourself, your body, and the generations of memory that brought you here. In this moment, you are the bridge between what has been and what will be. Trust that you are safe to feel that possibility.