Sovereignty looks like not folding the blanket
This week’s practice: one comfort tweak + one body cue. We deserve comfort.
I debated on sending this article out. My heart hurts for the world. But especially in these moments, we must take care of ourselves. And I hope this serves as a reminder to take a moment this week to “not fold the blanket.”
I wrote on Friday about creative sovereignty, about being the one holding the scepter and the one with the blueprint.
Which means I get to build systems that serve me. And I get to keep them soft enough to be lived in.
And I keep realizing something small and slightly embarrassing: a lot of my “sovereignty” lately has looked less like grand declarations… and more like a countertop trash can.
Not a big one. A tiny one. Just big enough for the Splenda packets I tear open every morning while I’m still half-dreaming.
Is it efficient? Yes.
Is it sacred? Debatable.
Is it a quiet way of saying, “I get to make my mornings easier on purpose”? Absolutely.
And then there’s the blanket in my office.
It’s my favorite one. Soft, fluffy, deeeeelightful. And every day I folded it up after I was done using it.
…
……
………
And then I stopped folding it.
Sure, it looks less organized. But I love being able to sit down and immediately curl right into it. No ceremony. No extra step. Just: MMMM. Comfy.
And here’s the key detail: no one sees it.
No one is touring my office with a clipboard.
No one is scoring me on “workspace tidiness.”
The only person living in this environment is me.
So this week’s practice is about a kind of sovereignty we forget we’re allowed to have:
comfort.
A way of making your life easier without needing to justify it.
And especially as we keep living through day-to-day tragedy, anger, grief, and the whole swarm of feelings about things we simply cannot control, deliberately choosing one small element of your immediate experience can be quietly empowering.
It’s sovereignty.
Not over the whole world. Just over this corner of it: the light, the sound, the temperature, the texture. The part your body has to live inside.
And then you get to feel it, in little ways throughout your day and week: that “MMMMM. Comfy” moment. That softening. That tiny exhale that changes what it’s like to be you in your actual life.
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You’ll get Sunday practices (comfort included), 90-second Wednesday invitations, and Friday stories for the laughing/crying/“wow okay that’s me” parts of being alive.
The Cozy Bunker Check-In
The whole practice is this:
1) Make one change to your environment on purpose.
Pick one:
light (lamp on, overhead off, curtains open, screen brightness down)
sound (music on, silence on, one annoying noise removed)
temperature (socks, tea, sweater, fan, window cracked)
texture (blanket, hoodie, chair swap, feet on something soft)
2) Add one body cue.
Just one, simple and physical:
unclench your jaw
drop your shoulders
put one hand on your chest or belly
feel your feet for one breath
let your exhale get a fraction longer than your inhale
Then notice what’s true:
Does your body soften even 1%?
Do you feel just a little more “here?”
Do you feel even slightly less braced?
That’s the point.
Comfort ISN’T laziness. Comfort IS information. As I’ve become used to the idea of comfort, I’ve realized that comfort is a nervous system signal that says, “You can be here.”
If you want an extra question to carry into the week, try this:
What’s one comfort I can choose today that helps me feel more here? More in my body? More alive in my actual life?
You get to live in your own environment (and you don’t have to fold your blanket).
Sometimes we forget we’re allowed to make our lives and our spaces kinder on purpose. As a way to keep ourselves close. As a way to stay inhabiting the life we’re already in.
-Alex 🧡
Our Upcoming Departmental Schedule
Wednesday: Our 90-second field assignment. This week: Delete one thing. One unsubscribe, one tab, one obligation, one small “no.” The win is space.
Friday: A lived story about the January reach. The push. The itch for more. The weird feeling of “my life is fine” paired with “I still want something.” We’ll follow the reach down to what it’s really asking for, and end with one small, honest shift.
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Our Friday Story
Our Wednesday Field Assignment
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This essay reinforces some changes I have been making to increase comforting care in my daily routines.
This aligns so much with what I'm trying to become more aware of in my own life. So many scripts have been handed to us as women, and we don't even realize it. Even the term self-care has been bandied about and it's become another thing on a to-do list. I love your use of the word sovereignty. It's so spot on!