Hurry up and SLOW DOWN
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Hey Reader 🌿 Welcome to our second round of Coming to Our Senses! 🌿 This is a monthly ritual of sensory activation to look at different ways we can find presence within the daily grind of our lives. Practical ways in which we can carve out moments of awareness and establish islands of peace. Different approaches to tap into the true wonder of life amidst the shadows, finding glimmers where we can and embracing the process as we navigate this path. Each month, we’ll explore a new combination of our senses to deepen our connection with the world around us and within us. This month, we’re diving into two often-overlooked senses that anchor us deeply into our bodies and the present moment: proprioception and interoception. These internal senses quietly guide our movements, emotions, and connection to self, offering profound insights into our physical and emotional worlds. I'll take you on a little journey of my own sensory observations and weave in gentle techniques for you to try along the way. Providing simple yet powerful practices that can draw on inspiration for you to awaken your intuitive expressions.
“Now when I feel lost, I remember that I am not the woods. I am my own tree. So I return to myself and reinhabit myself. As I do, I feel my chin rise and my body straighten. I reach deeply into the rich soil beneath me, made up of every girl and woman I’ve ever been, every face I’ve loved, every love I’ve lost, every place I’ve been, every conversation I’ve had, every book I’ve read and song I’ve sung, everything, everything, crumbling and mixing and decomposing underneath. Nothing wasted. My entire past there, holding me up and feeding me now. All of this too low for anyone else to see, just there for me to draw from. Then up and up all the way to my branches, my imagination, too high for anyone else to see—reaching beyond, growing toward the light and warmth. Then the middle, the trunk, the only part of me entirely visible to the world. Pulpy and soft inside, just tough enough on the outside to protect and hold me. Exposed and safe. I am as ancient as the earth I’m planted in and as new as my tiniest bloom. I am my own Touch Tree: strong, singular, alive. Still growing. I have everything I need, beneath me, above me, inside me. I am never gonna lose me.” - Glennon Doyle, Untamed
You may not have a daily practice. You might say to yourself, I can't meditate. I can't write. I am not an artist. My gift to you is to show you that you are, and you can. We will chip away at this monthly and see what comes up, what channels we can clear so that you can be in flow with the truth of you, in all your raw honesty and wholeness. Your words may not mean anything at first, but eventually you will stumble upon the art that lives inside you. That which is meant to be expressed. Grab a journal, a pen, maybe your headphones, find a place where you can reflect (this can be while you are gardening, walking, you don't necessarily have to be still the whole time). Are you ready? Alright my loves, let's dive in! Interoception: Tuning Into the Inner LandscapeOur sense of interoception allows us to feel what’s happening inside our bodies—the gentle rhythm of our breath, the flutter of our heartbeat, or the soothing sensation of calm that washes over us as we let go of our need to do, to distract, to pedal faster. It’s our foundation of self-awareness and emotional regulation, helping us respond with presence rather than reaction. To explore this, I’ve created a guided audio meditation designed to awaken your interoceptive awareness. Through gentle breathwork, a calming body scan, fractional relaxation and a visualisation journey into Aotearoa’s lush native forests, you’ll connect deeply to the sensations within. As you join me in the forest, I’ll describe the texture of moss beneath my feet, the scent of damp earth, and the sound of the wind whispering through the trees. I’ll invite you to scan your surroundings in this imagined space, noticing what feelings and sensations arise. Will you step into the clearing with me? Reflection Prompt: After listening, take a moment to journal on one or as many of these prompts as you like:
Proprioception: Rediscovering Your Body’s Subtle WisdomProprioception is the quiet, innate sense that grounds us in our physical reality. It’s how we instinctively balance on uneven ground, navigate the dark without stumbling, or feel the alignment of our body without a mirror. When we consciously tune into this sense, we begin to bridge the gap between our body and the world around us, cultivating a profound connection to our movement, balance, and presence. To explore this, I’ve selected four photographs that embody the essence of proprioceptive awareness. Each image invites you to step into its story, to imagine where you might stand or how you might move within the frame. As you observe these images, let your body respond intuitively—stretch, sway, adjust—and notice what unfolds. Questions to Explore:
Take a moment to engage with these photographs. This is not just an exercise in observation but an invitation to embody the subtle wisdom that resides within you. See how your awareness deepens as you connect to these visual stories. Distilling Essence: A Journey of Inner and Outer AwarenessConversations with NatureRecently I've been dabbling in the art of distillation which has quickly become a newfound obsession that has captivated me, offering me a different dynamic in my connection to my plant allies. It’s more than a hobby—it’s a way to root myself back into the rhythms of nature and slow down with intention. I’m creeping ever so softly into the role of alchemist, botanist, and curious plant friend, stirring quiet conversations with the flora & fauna I meet on my wanderings. The entire process from choosing a botanical, to harvesting, to the distillation itself is so fascinating! Many of these plants grow wildly, with only the occasional pruning over the years. Some are from my front yard, while others come from various places I've traveled. Each bloom carries a story, a history rooted in the landscapes they call home, and I feel a sense of connection as I gather them. At sunrise, the air feels charged with possibility. The first light shines through and slightly above the tallest trees in my neighborhood, casting a glow over the blooms I've come to gather in my front yard. Clad in my fluffy teal robe, barefoot, and armed with a pair of scissors and my trusty cane foraging basket, I set about for my second harvest of white roses. The first glimmers of light illuminating the bumblebees as they stumble drunkenly across the fragrant blooms, while the honeybees dart about on their industrious missions. I carefully avoided their paths, instead seeking my own little treasures. Each rose was selected with intention, its fragrance savoured before it joined its companions in the basket. There’s a quiet knowing when the basket is full—an intuitive sense that the amount is just right. I notice how my fingers work methodically, selecting flowers at their goldilocks stage. Just right. Harvesting later in the day, I’ve noticed the difference. The petals lose their vibrancy, their scent softens, as if the morning itself lends the flowers a unique vitality. This ritual becomes more than the act of gathering; it’s an invitation to slow down and honour our true circadian rhythm, becoming in sync with the vibration of the unspoken world that we often walk past on our day to day missions. In what was once our dining room and is now transformed into our distillation lab, I find myself surrounded by the tools of alchemy. My partner brews spirits here, while I engage in a more spiritual dialogue with plants. The copper alembic still gleams on the table, ready to transform petals into essence. The warmth of the metal beneath my hands anchors me, and the gentle rise of steam feels sacred. This isn’t just distillation; it’s a meditative dance—a conversation between the earthly and the ethereal, the tangible and the unseen. As I distill, I am curious about the symbolism roses carry across cultures and begin to do some research. In Greek mythology, white roses were said to bloom from the sea foam that gave birth to Aphrodite, embodying purity and divine love. Their colour transformed to red when her blood touched the petals, symbolising the delicate balance between purity and passion. The story echoes in Roman mythology with Venus, where white roses symbolise love and beauty. The white rose, often linked to spirituality and new beginnings, speaks of innocence and reverence. The Persian tale of the nightingale and the white rose tells of a bird so passionately in love that it pierced its heart on the rose’s thorn, turning its petals red—a poignant transformation of pure love into passionate intensity. In contrast, the red rose blazes with vitality, romantic love, and courage, while the pink rose offers a gentler connection of gratitude and tenderness. Each rose I’ve distilled carries its own narrative. On my second harvest of roses, I gathered a variety of flowers from my friend's garden around the corner from Carey's Bay, overlooking the Otago Harbour and Taiaroa Head. The garden, steeped in history and love, offered a stunning collection of florals, each with its own personality. My favourite was the darkest rose, a mystery species I have yet to name, with its subtle sweetness and deep floral notes that seemed to instill thoughts of the time, the care and devotion of the woman who first planted these bushes by the sea. Beacons of light, much like the lighthouse at the harbour entrance, these roses stood proudly on the hillside, embodying both resilience and wild grace. Each plant, like us, has it's own story. It's own conversation yet to be engaged. Another plant from my backyard, Tarata or Lemon Wood, has also joined my distillation experiments. Its fresh, citrusy fragrance carries a brightness that feels like bottled sunlight, uplifting my mood and livening our energies as it permeates our household. Distilling Tarata has been an equally meditative process, adding a unique layer to this alchemical journey. As each botanical turns into hydrosol, I find myself immersed in their narratives, their essence captured drop by drop. This isn’t just an alchemical process—it’s a way to hold presence, the stillness of morning, and the hum of life within a bottle.
Would you like to experience this magic yourself? Here’s a simple recipe to create your own rose hydrosol and rose water: Here are two DIY recipes for making rose hydrosol and rose water at home: Rose Hydrosol (Distilled Rose Water)Ingredients:
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Rose Water (Infusion Method)Ingredients:
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The distillation method (rose hydrosol) produces a purer, longer-lasting product, while the infusion method (rose water) is simpler but may have a shorter shelf life. Both can be used as a skin toner, aromatherapy tool, or facial refresher. Uses:
Grounding Steps: Walking with IntentionWhen we tread the earth with shoes on, it’s easy to move through the world disconnected, our steps hurried and thoughtless. But walking barefoot invites a transformation—it asks us to slow down and truly feel. With each step, we become mindful of the textures beneath us: the cool, damp soil, the rough bark of fallen branches, or the softness of scattered leaves. Barefoot, we instinctively adjust our gait, placing each foot with care, attuned to the ground beneath and the life around us. This practice brings a heightened awareness, not just to the earth’s offerings but to ourselves—our balance, our breath, and the subtle dance between body and nature. Walking with intention transforms a simple act into a grounding ritual, reconnecting us to what lies ahead and within. So my friends, this is your invitation to take your shoes off and truly feel the world beneath you. Sink your toes into the damp earth, letting its cool embrace ground you. Notice the grittiness of sand brushing against the soles of your feet, the exhilarating rush of southern waters lapping gently at your heels, or the deliberate care it takes to navigate smooth, slippery or jagged edged rocks as you hop from one to the next. What are the messages you are noticing in the terrains that you are traversing? While you are out there, pause for a moment to balance on one foot, feeling the intricate symphony of ligaments, muscles, and joints working together to keep you up right. This is your proprioception, the noticing of the gentle sway, the subtle adjustments, and even the moments of wavering that your body makes to keep you aware. Then, shift inward to your interoception, the subtle awareness of what’s happening inside you. How does your breath change as you steady yourself? Do you feel your heartbeat quicken, the pull of gravity, or the mild terror of wobbling just before catching yourself? It's okay if you fall, embrace the sensation of falling through space. Did you land softly?What does that moment of surrender teach you about trust, both in your body and the earth beneath you? In these small acts, you’ll discover a deeper awareness of your body, the earth, and the unspoken conversation between the two. Hurry up and SLOW DOWNThis time of year always brings with it a sense of not having enough time. The holidays creeping up faster than you can imagine but also can't be here quick enough for some. A sense of urgency that no longer serves. This urgency has been the fuel of a daily grind that saps the joy from moments, leaving behind a haze of busyness and distraction. It’s the source of an unsettled nervous system, the culprit behind my disconnection from the present. But when I pause—when I allow slowness to take its rightful place—I find the urgency fading into something softer, something truer. "Slowing down is thus about lingering in the places we are not used to. Seeking out new questions. Becoming accountable to more than what rests on the surface. Seeking roots. Slowing down is taking care of ghosts, hugging monsters, sharing silence, embracing the weird. If a humanist response to, say, the killing of whales or police violence urges us to do more and more to stop these phenomena, the call to slow down reminds us that we do not simply act upon the world (as if the world were external to our actions, or as if we were external to it), we are the world in its ongoing action-ing. As a result, we might come to examine our complicity in class issues and how the loss of immediate connections with the ‘wilds’ renders us moderns poor spokespeople for the wellbeing of the nonhuman." - Bayo Akomolafe Slowness is an act of rebellion in a world addicted to speed. It is the gentle nudge that reminds me to come back home: home to myself, to my inner radiance, to the grounding embrace of Mother Earth. Slowness doesn’t mean doing less; it means moving with intention, savouring each step, each breath, each task. Even in the ever present chaos, there are opportunities to reclaim presence—a quiet revolution against the tide of the hustle. "These times are urgent. Let us slow down." - Bayo Akomolafe To urgently slow down is to remember what truly matters—to feel alive not through the pace of our movements but through the depth of our presence. It is to reclaim a rhythm that aligns with the heart, the earth, and the timeless pulse of life itself. Slowing down, even amidst the frenzy, is not about inaction; it’s about reclaiming the richness of the moment. It’s about finding the clearing in the trees, where the noise falls away, and the world reveals its quiet truths—the vibrant red of the rātā blossoms nestled in the canopy, the rhythmic sway of branches in the wind, the hum of life continuing regardless of our haste. This practice of slowing is not just a return to the self; it is a return to relationship—relationship with the earth, with others, and with the complexities of the world around us. Slowing down allows us to meet the sensuousness of this existence, to connect with what is alive and often unseen: the texture of the soil underfoot, the delicate scent of flowers, the cadence of our breath as it steadies. In this slowness, there is a tiny revolution. It is not about solving or fixing but about listening, being, and becoming. It is about embracing the composting of ourselves—a way of living that integrates the messiness, the beauty, and the interconnectedness of all things. As I pause, I find that even falling—off balance, off plan—can feel like flying when freed from the tyranny of ticking boxes. This season, I invite you to urgently slow down. Find your clearing in the trees. See the flowers. Breathe in the sacredness of the now. It is here, in this slowness, that we rediscover the sanctuary of being truly alive. Being truly Wild. If you’d like to dive deeper into this journey together, here are three ways we can adventure side by side. Whether it’s through mentorship, movement, meditation, a Rewild Portrait Experience, or attending a workshop, I’d be honoured to walk this path with you:
Well that's all folks! Tell me, what is feeling most alive for you right now? Hit reply and let me know how this landed for you. Share your writing, share your thoughts. I’d love to hear from you! May you find moments of stillness amidst the chaos, glimmers of wonder in the everyday, and the courage to walk this path with intention and love. Thank you for sharing this space with me—your presence here matters, and I’m so grateful to be on this journey with you. 🌿 From my wild heart to yours ❤️🔥, Kass ✨ “Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach.” - Clarissa Pinkola Estés |
