Posts in notes
This is time-travel

We could be the same.

Some things stay and cause

the sensation of time

to collapse. Whatever it is

doesn’t matter as much as

however it felt to notice, again.

poetry, notesMegan Jones
On Sitting and Relaxation: My Somatic Meditation Practice

Sitting. I’ve been sitting.

Here’s some real talk about my mediation practice:

I’ve been a long time in only beginning to feel relaxation while sitting up. I’ve been many moons flat back on the floor, resting –searching for rest. To now be able to sit more and more is strange and wonderful.

I feel like I’m constantly opening more capacity to embrace how much I hold, how tense I am. And actually feel directly how that gripping, though painful in places, is one way I protect myself and cope with my experience. To tense limits the amount of sensation or focuses sensations in a limited way –it’s a way to withdraw from life and I have been a long time withdrawing. We have inherited so much holding, and we have so much in this life that would feel safer to push away from.

But often to not feel isn’t safer, it is death. So let me be alive while I am, and feel. Let me feel myself here on this damn cushion for 5 or 45 minutes, and finally, maybe relax.

Relaxation, as it comes, opens. Relaxation makes it more possible for me to be aware of all I try to (and do) block, how I hide, and at the same time how truly vast and grounded my being is –this connection runs deep and is so wild to feel.

To be real honest though, it is terrifying to let go. You’d think like, not having a burning pain in my back would be the better alternative but nah that familiar pain is… familiar. I have a way of being controlling, needing to control (myself mostly), so sitting here and letting that go even when I am alone can feel too overwhelming.

But there is such a sweetness and such a flowing warmth and such a connection with the Earth to be experienced. Now I have tasted that sweetness –it’s not just some idea about what meditation does. And now this gets to metabolize and come through directly into how I be and how much choice I can access in daily life. Like, maybe my ego identity can continue to shed layers and maybe I can not be as reactionary, running the same trauma loops over and over.

Maybe, maybe we can be free.

Maybe we are free.

bodywork, notesMegan Jones
Moving around power isn’t healing

I voted today. I also cried. I also went to work doing a job I created for myself. I also recognized my privilege and ability to do all three of those activities.


I have hopes and fears for my kid, and her kids... for myself. Not only from physical injury necessarily, though that is never far from the mind. But from the inheritance of this emotional, this psychological injury that shapes our bodies already.

Moving around power isn’t healing.

But I see us, and we are healing. May we trust in what moves under the surface. May change light the way. May we let go of our domestication. May we feel free.


“My people are free.”

—Harriet Tubman


May we feel free. 

notesMegan Jones
Isn’t that something

I’m choosing play.

I’m being surprised, feeling it.

I’m not getting my shit together, but I am figuring out where the piles are.

I pulled up so many roots today. Isn’t that something.

notesMegan Jones
Before the storm came

Before the storm came, I took my own lightning to the river and sent it off through the hallways of trees until it was lost in the moving of light, the moving of water.

I saw this spiderweb come in and out of being.

I stood, barefoot, and let my heart drain into the strong pull of water until I could no longer feel my own legs.

I left something behind and have already forgotten what it was like to hold.

notesMegan Jones

Go, stand in the river where

the water runs clear and swiftly

Where the current is the strongest

and feel it

your own strength.

Bend to let your fingertips be moved

until the rain comes. 

Then walk yourself back home,

How do you stay open like the water

Rooted, not in the earth, but inside every cell of your own being

Held in the air, in the fire.

poetry, notesMegan Jones
A body of water

My soul was singing.

Those moments, brief and sometimes surprising, when everything’s a mirror. And the seeing blends into being. And everything, everything feels so close.

Floating in this wild body of water —salty lips, endless movement. The grieving and rejoicing meet each other, face to face.

notesMegan Jones
Yes and no

a poem by e.e. cummings


i thank You God for most this amazing

day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes


(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)


how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?


(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

notesMegan Jones


Resurrection looks like this.


And it has very little to do with belief. The flowers say “I do not need you to believe me.” It is actually unbelievable that life returns in spring.

Holy is a reverence for the mystery.

notesMegan Jones
On Healing

It takes time. It takes a long time to wash away. It takes longer to soften enough to see the receding wave, to follow it back out. The crashing is easier, harsher, louder, claiming attention. But the return is a different kind of strong. It cuts under all the noise, to the soul of the sea. It takes time to see them both, the in and the out, as something whole. And then to feel that I am part of this? That's another lifetime worth of time.

Into Wonder

"In the beginning of heaven and earth there were no words,
Words came out of the womb of matter;
And whether a man dispassionately
Sees to the core of life
Or passionately
Sees the surface,
The core and the surface
Are essentially the same,
Words making them seem different
Only to express appearance.
If name be needed, wonder names them both:
From wonder into wonder
Existence opens."



notesMegan Jones
From Alain De Botton

"We should not feel embarrassed by our difficulties,

only by our failure to grow anything beautiful

from them.


–Alain De Botton

notesMegan Jones