hihi
a workshop by Celeste Ovita Cole
That might’ve felt like nothing, or like a lot.
It might've just felt like sugar between your palms.
Or maybe something stirred.
An experiment to learn about yourself.
Whatever it was, thank you for being part of it
and putting yourself first.
This page is here as a soft landing.
A way to remember what you felt.
Or name what it was.
Or just remind you that the door is still open.
It might've just felt like sugar between your palms.
Or maybe something stirred.
An experiment to learn about yourself.
Whatever it was, thank you for being part of it
and putting yourself first.
This page is here as a soft landing.
A way to remember what you felt.
Or name what it was.
Or just remind you that the door is still open.
a kind of manicure/an act of noticing
We didn’t meditate in silence or stillness.
We didn’t try to empty the mind.
Instead, we turned the volume up on sensation, scrubbed, lathered, rinsed, massaged, to notice what had been drowned out by the noise of the day really.
This is a form of sensory meditation, where stimulation becomes a doorway to presence I think. It sounds a bit much but pretty worth it.
In more clinical or psychological terms, this overlaps with:
-
Somatic practices: where you bring awareness to bodily sensations to support emotional and nervous system regulation.
-
Expressive arts therapy: where doing and sensing are modes of meaning-making.
-
Titration: a trauma-informed approach of gently entering and exiting sensation to build capacity for feeling.
-
Interoception: the sense that helps you notice what’s happening inside your body (like your heartbeat, hunger, or breath).
We touched, not to fix anything, but to feel the contrast. To know what our bodies say when we actively listen.
Permission to Be Strange (and give yourself grace)
This comes from my personal experience, hihihello.
I don’t believe you have to meditate cross-legged in perfect silence to be “doing it right.”
My version and what others have shared of stillness is:
– shaking your legs at the dinner table
– clipping your split ends one hair at a time
– laying face-down on the floor for 7 minutes
– running your thumb across your keys again and again
– washing dishes slowly when no one’s around
– listening to the same three seconds of a song on loop
These are not bad habits.
They are portals.
Let them be your way in.
This is not about correcting your body, I feel it's about meeting it where it already is. And to me this is agency.
This comes from my personal experience, hihihello.
I don’t believe you have to meditate cross-legged in perfect silence to be “doing it right.”
My version and what others have shared of stillness is:
– shaking your legs at the dinner table
– clipping your split ends one hair at a time
– laying face-down on the floor for 7 minutes
– running your thumb across your keys again and again
– washing dishes slowly when no one’s around
– listening to the same three seconds of a song on loop
These are not bad habits.
They are portals.
Let them be your way in.
This is not about correcting your body, I feel it's about meeting it where it already is. And to me this is agency.
//an alternative to traditional meditation
You may not always have the time.
You may have mouths to feed, rent to pay, texts to answer, or a brain that won’t shut up.
But if once a day — or week — or just once in a while, you take 15 minutes and do something for yourself, with your body, that’s a kind of devotion.
If a version is just rubbing lotion into your own hands slowly, that’s enough.
xx
- cee/celeste/ovita
- cee/celeste/ovita
below are poems others have shared.
I scrubbed like I meant it
like something might surface
a memory, a sadness
or just better skin
I rinsed. I paused.
I breathed. That’s a win.
-linh
like something might surface
a memory, a sadness
or just better skin
I rinsed. I paused.
I breathed. That’s a win.
-linh
My fingers spoke a sugar song
a sticky hymn, not sweet for long
They asked, "Is this how touch should feel?"
I said, "Maybe not, but it's real."
a sticky hymn, not sweet for long
They asked, "Is this how touch should feel?"
I said, "Maybe not, but it's real."
My knuckles cracked a joke
the lotion didn’t laugh
I rubbed it in with grace anyway
The punchline:
my hands didn’t ache after.
-xx
the lotion didn’t laugh
I rubbed it in with grace anyway
The punchline:
my hands didn’t ache after.
-xx
Call it exfoliation, or just stuff I do
I thought about bread
I thought about soup
I forgot I was even doing this
Still, my hands were soft
Cool.
-nita
I thought about bread
I thought about soup
I forgot I was even doing this
Still, my hands were soft
Cool.
-nita
I almost skipped it
too many emails, too much scroll
but I caught myself
in the act of abandoning myself
and turned
toward a towel, a song, a squeeze
too many emails, too much scroll
but I caught myself
in the act of abandoning myself
and turned
toward a towel, a song, a squeeze
I tried to think of something deep
but my cat walked on my journal
and then I got distracted
Still, I rubbed my hands
and felt... something?
Success?
-jp
but my cat walked on my journal
and then I got distracted
Still, I rubbed my hands
and felt... something?
Success?
-jp
Between brown sugar and being seen
I chose both
The mirror, the scrub, the silence
all whispered
you’re more than you think
even when you’re not trying
I chose both
The mirror, the scrub, the silence
all whispered
you’re more than you think
even when you’re not trying
Bathed in grief’s strange joy,
I settle into trust.
My mom‘s hands appear in mine.
We’re made of the same dust.
Injustice, strikes; I adjust,
And choose trust.
By MAAY
I settle into trust.
My mom‘s hands appear in mine.
We’re made of the same dust.
Injustice, strikes; I adjust,
And choose trust.
By MAAY