A soft start to the Season (of rushing)
November arrives with a contradiction we all feel in our bones: the natural world is slowing down, preparing for winter's rest, while our calendars explode with urgency. Thanksgiving preparations. Advent planning. Year-end deadlines. Holiday gatherings. The pressure to do all the things, see all the people, finish all the projects before the year runs out.
And if you're in ministry? Multiply all of that by the weight of holding space for everyone else's expectations, grief, and joy during what many consider "the most wonderful time of the year" — but what often feels like the most exhausting.
The Body Knows
Here's what I've noticed, both in my own body and in the bodies of the women I work with: our bodies are not fooled by our busy calendars.
While our minds race ahead to the next task, the next service, the next family obligation, our bodies are quietly responding to the season we're actually in. The shorter days. The cooler temperatures. The pull toward rest, reflection, and turning inward.
When we ignore this pull — when we override the body's natural wisdom with caffeine, willpower, and the tyranny of our to-do lists — something starts to break down. We get sick right when we "can't afford to." We snap at people we love. We stand in front of the open refrigerator at 9 PM, exhausted and numb, eating food we don't even taste.
The body is speaking. The question is: are we listening?
The Sacred Practice of Slowing Down
I want to offer you something radical for November: permission to find the slow.
Not to abandon your responsibilities. Not to ignore the very real demands on your time and energy. But to intentionally create pockets of slowness within the rush. To honor the season your body is in, even while your calendar insists you keep sprinting.
This is not self-care as performance. This is not one more thing to add to your list. This is about reconnecting with the wisdom already living in your body — wisdom that knows what you need, if you'll just give it space to speak.
What "Finding the Slow" Looks Like
Finding the slow doesn't require a week at a retreat center or a complete schedule overhaul (though wouldn't that be nice?). It looks like small, embodied practices woven into the days you're already living:
In the morning: Before you reach for your phone, place both feet on the floor. Take three deep breaths. Notice the temperature of the air. Feel the weight of your body. Ask: What does my body need today?
In transition moments: Between meetings, before getting out of the car, after closing your laptop — pause. Five seconds of presence. One full breath. A gentle stretch. These micro-moments of slowness reset your nervous system.
During meals: Put your phone in another room. Sit down. Chew slowly. Taste your food. This isn't about "mindful eating" as one more spiritual discipline to master. It's about remembering that eating is a gift, nourishment is sacred, and your body deserves your attention.
Before bed: Instead of scrolling until your eyes burn, try five minutes of gentle movement. Roll your shoulders. Stretch your neck. Place your hands on your belly and breathe. Let your body know: You're safe. You can rest.
Once this week: Say no to something that doesn't serve your actual life, even if it seems important. Create space where there was none. Guard that space fiercely.
The Spiritual Work of Embodiment
For those of us in ministry, there's often a disconnect between what we preach and how we live. We talk about Sabbath rest, trusting God's provision, the importance of self-care — and then we model relentless productivity, self-sacrifice unto depletion, and the belief that our worth is measured by our output.
But what if embodiment — learning to honor the body's wisdom, to live at a sustainable pace, to find the slow — is actually spiritual formation?
What if the way we care for our bodies is a form of prayer?
What if slowing down enough to notice what we're feeling is how we stay connected to the God who made us embodied creatures in the first place?
The incarnation tells us that bodies matter. That flesh and bone and breath are not obstacles to the spiritual life but the very medium through which we experience the holy. Jesus didn't transcend his body. He lived fully in it — eating, sleeping, weeping, resting, feeling.
We are invited to do the same.
A Benediction for the Busy Season
As November unfolds and the pace threatens to overwhelm, I offer you this:
May you find small moments of slowness in the rush.
May you honor the season your body is in, even when your calendar demands otherwise.
May you remember that your worth is not measured by your productivity, your availability, or your ability to meet everyone else's expectations.
May you trust that the world will not fall apart if you pause long enough to breathe.
May you reconnect with the wisdom already living in your bones, your breath, your beating heart.
And may you know, deep in your body, that you are enough.
Not because of what you do.
Not because of what you produce.
But because you are a beloved child of God, fearfully and wonderfully made, worthy of care, rest, and gentle attention.
What practices help you find the slow during busy seasons? I'd love to hear what resonates with you. Drop a comment below or reach out at e.m.martinson@gmail.com.
If you're a woman in ministry longing for a community that understands the unique challenges of this season — and support in building sustainable practices of embodied wisdom — I'd love to tell you about StrongHer. Let's talk: calendly.com/embodywisdomllc
