Spring has me thinking about earthly rhythms—how crocuses always bloom before hyacinths, how hyacinths always bloom before daffodils, how daffodils always bloom before tulips, and so on.
The eclipse earlier this month had me thinking about celestial rhythms—how our little collection of planets are orbited by moons, how these planets orbit the sun, how they criss cross all over and make it so that sometimes we can’t sleep at night, or sometimes we feel manic. Izzy went to an IV clinic to get hydration on the eclipse day, and the nurse there told them how the ER becomes disproportionately full on eclipses.
We are so affected by the rhythms of the earth, the planets, the moon, the stars. These rhythms are inside as much as they are outside.
I’m thinking about my rhythms as a chronically ill person. I’m thinking about my rhythms as a writer.
What I’ve found is that finding a personal sense of rhythm is deeply important to creative work and healing work alike—it’s more than important: it’s sacred.
Let me outline a few touchstones of my own daily rhythms that contribute to both my healing and my creative practices.
Sleep
As in: once 8pm strikes, my entire life revolves around getting ready for bed. I try to be in bed between 9:30pm and 8am every day. This is a rhythm I’ve picked up through Izzy’s health protocol, and once my own starts, I’m assuming it will only become further ingrained into me. I haven’t prioritized a consistent sleep schedule really ever in my adult life, but now that I have one I couldn’t imagine ever doing away with it. Yes, it could potentially limit my life in certain ways, but right now I have no reason to stay up past 9:30. Maybe once I’m feeling better, a one-off late night seeing a show will be possible. Getting enough sleep simply makes me feel good. I’m able to work faster in the day; my writing is clearer, better; I have more energy in the day; I know that my cells and my brain and my nervous system are all healing when I sleep… it matters. I really does. I tried getting up earlier, more like 6:30-7am, but found that that just doesn’t work for me. Right now, I need so much sleep. I’ve set up my life (and sacrificed a lot) so that I can prioritize this much sleep, and you can too (if you need/want).
Walking
As in: gentle movement is good for the body. As in: walking helps me clear my head. As in: I get all my best ideas when I’m walking. I know that you already know the benefits of walking, so I’m not going to list them here. The personal benefits of walking that are just for me include the fact that going on a walk, typically, means taking half an hour for myself and doing whatever the heck I want. I can walk anywhere, I can listen or not listen to anything, I can kneel down and watch the way the wind is moving through the tiny purple flowers that have been sprouting in the neighborhood, I can bring my dog (don’t worry, I usually do), I can take some distance from whatever version of me I was before I took my first step outside. This last one is huge, as someone who (lately) is often overwhelmed with the weight of chronic illness, the stress of coordinating doctors appointments and scheduling labs and taking meds and eating the right foods and talking to people who just ask questions instead of doing their own research etc etc etc… Furthermore, walking in and of itself is a kind of rhythm within a rhythm. Rebecca Solnit writes in Wanderlust, “the rhythm of walking generates a kind of rhythm of thinking, and the passage through a landscape echoes or simulates the passage through a series of thoughts.” Isn’t that beautiful? It’s true. If I am writing and feel stuck, a walk is the surest way for me to find my way back to whatever it was I was trying to say.
Reading
As in: escape. As in: pleasure. As in: paying attention. As in: learning, always. As in: an ego boost, to be honest. My brain craves reading, craves stories, craves learning, craves discovering new worlds. I love novels with all of my heart. I believe they have the power to change the world. I love a sciencey non-fiction book as much as the next chronically ill person, but really it’s reading novels that’s entrenched into my personal rhythm. Reading for longer stretches of time in a day is a nice way to rest my body. Reading is also a crucial part of being a writer, and becoming a better writer. During three days of travel between Michigan and Georgia earlier this month, I read a beautiful novel called The Hearing Test by Eliza Barry Callahan which I highly recommend. It’s about an artist navigating the waters of newfound hearing loss and disability, and it was a balm to read. The way she captures that particular feeling of isolation made me feel, inversely, less alone during that heavy trip. Whenever I finish a book, I feel a sense of accomplishment, which is particularly valuable when I’m flaring or my writing is stagnant. It gives me that little ego boost that is, as it turns out, helpful and rewarding.
A note on reading rhythms: I’m reworking my workshop, Avid, that challenges people to read (even just a tiny bit) for an entire month as a way to help integrate more grounding rituals into their lives. I’ll let you know when that’s available again.
Water
As in: drinking it. As in: visiting bodies of it. As in: bathing. Hydration just makes everything better. That’s all I have to say about drinking water. As for visiting bodies of it, that is one of the reasons we decided to move up north. Izzy and I have been making a habit out of visiting Lake Michigan every Tuesday evening at golden hour. We bring tea, throw sticks for Jö, walk along the shore and just bask in its glory really. I won’t reveal our secret (not really that secret) spot, sorry. As for bathing—we lucked out with a really nice tub in the little house we’re renting. I often read while I bath (two rhythms in one!) and have also recently started using this soap which I love the smell of, and how it makes my skin feel. I also think it may be helping with my circulation/lupus rash stuff, thanks to the mugwort in it.
Connection
As in: the people I love. As in: not feeling alone in any of this. As in: I live for my girlie group chat. As in: friendship. As in: love. I’m not the most social of people, but I know that life with chronic illness—and life as a writer—is deeply isolating. It’s imperative to combat these feelings of isolation with connection. I’m lucky that the person I love understands what it means to be sick and what it means to be an artist. I can’t recommend finding a partner who gets it enough—I know we’re not all so lucky, but if you are unattached and have the willpower to hold out for someone who has lived a similar experience either themselves or perhaps through close examination, do it. If you are already attached, and your partner does not relate to you in these ways that shape your life, perhaps paying extra attention to ways in which they can support you will be necessary. Romantic connection is just the tip of the iceberg, though. Friendships are even more important—friendships are the most important. My romantic partner can only support me so much—they are just one person, after all. My friends are my lifelines. I can come to them with as much or as little as I have the capacity for and they are always there, unwavering in their support. I have one very active group chat in particular that I consider part of my daily rhythm—we check in each morning, we share our little wordle grids, we vent, we seek advice, solace, pep talks, assurance. I don’t know who or where or what I’d be without them. I have another, less active but equally important group chat of my oldest friends—the ones who know me to my core; the ones who know what I’m saying even when I’m not saying anything at all; the ones who know my deepest traumas and earliest expressions of self. I am grateful to have these three equally important yet wholly unique support systems. I would be twice as sick, and only half the writer I am today, without this connection, this love.
Consider this an invitation to take inventory on the rhythms that keep your health, or your art, or another aspect of your life, on track.
xo Lys
Lyssie, this is beautiful and inspiring and everything I needed this morning. Yes to everything here. A lot of it is a good reminder for me of what I need now in these last weeks and what I will need a reminder of in the next phase of life. Love you.