SELF-CARE AS A SACRED ACT OF REMEMBERING
A presence-centered reflection on what self-care truly means— not as indulgence, but as a sacred act of return.
A Threshold of Return
Let us begin not in speech, but in stillness. A single breath… A quiet coming home. Let the room soften. Let the body arrive. We hear the phrase often now: “self-care.”
It shows up on the lips of influencers, in wellness blogs, in the crisp packages of products meant to soothe. But the truth is: Self-care is not something we do after we’ve burned out. It is not a reward for having survived. It is the remembering of our original worth.
A turning inward, toward the sacred being who lives within us — the one we so often forget in our giving, our holding, our running to meet the needs of the world.
The Myth of Self-Care
We’ve been taught that self-care is something we earn — a spa day after burnout, a reward after productivity. But in truth, self-care is not a reward. It is a remembering. A remembering that I am not the sum of what I produce.
That I, too, am a life worth tending to. There are those who care for everyone but themselves. They are often the ones who show up at the threshold — depleted, yearning, aching for something they can’t name.
What Self-Care Truly Is
Self-care is not only what you do. It is how you relate to yourself as you move through the world. It is the breath between the tasks. The hand on the heart before you answer the phone. The moment you say: “No, not today. Today I rest.”
Simple Practice:
Place your hand on your chest. Notice the breath. Just for a moment, do nothing. Let that be enough.
The Sacred in the Ordinary
Self-care can be infused into tea-making, walking, breath, prayer, gardening, saying no, receiving help. Self-care is not just what you do when you're falling apart. It is what keeps you from forgetting who you are. To care for the self is not separate from devotion. It is devotion.
You are a temple. You are the vessel of Presence. What would it mean to tend to yourself as a sacred offering?
The Resistance to Self-Care
There are old messages many of us carry: It’s selfish. Others have it worse. I don’t deserve it. But what if the part of you that needs care is not weak… but holy? What if that longing is the voice of Love within you, saying: Return. Tend to the garden of your own soul.
Somatic Balance as the Ground of Emotional Intelligence
Definition
Somatic balance is the felt-sense experience of being in right relationship with the body — its rhythms, needs, breath, posture, and internal environment. It is not perfection of health, but a harmony of presence.
When this balance is intact, the nervous system becomes a field of clarity rather than chaos. When it is disturbed, the soul’s voice is muffled.
Symptoms of Somatic Imbalance
• Shallow, upper chest breathing
• Disconnection from hunger, thirst, or fatigue• Emotional volatility or numbness
• Racing thoughts, looping anxiety, difficulty centering
• Digestive upset, muscle tightness, adrenal overdrive
• A constant sense of urgency, even in silence
Emotional Cost
Somatic imbalance directly affects emotional intelligence.
It clouds perception, reduces resilience, and makes Presence inaccessible.
Emotional intelligence arises through a body that is regulated, attuned, and allowed to feel.
Practices of Return
Breath: Slow inhale (4), hold (4), long exhale (6)
Grounding touch: Hand on heart and belly
Hydration: Sacred water, received slowly
Earthing: Bare feet on ground, letting the earth hold you
Daily pause: At thresholds, between tasks, before deciding
These are not fixes. They are invitations back to balance.
Final Transmission: A Blessing for the Body
Beloved body, vessel of soul, instrument of breath and bone and ache — May you be tended. May you be heard. May you be met with the same love you have held for others. When you tremble,may you not be punished. When you ache, may you not be dismissed.
You do not exist to perform. You exist to carry love. May peace find you. May balance remember you. May Presence return — not just to your mind — but to your marrow.
Closing Invitation
You cannot pour from an empty cup. But more than that — you do not exist to pour alone. Not to change everything. Not to overhaul your life.
But to begin with one act of remembrance: Drink your tea slowly. Rest your back against the wall. Step outside and feel the air. Lie down and feel the earth carry you.
And if all else fails… place your hand on your own heart and whisper: “I’m still here. I’m listening now.”
May you become your own sanctuary. Where silence lives.
Where love is remembered. Where wholeness begins again. Nigel Lott
