Bow Down

Bow down and stare in wonder. Bow down and stare in wonder. Bow down and stare in wonder.

Ooh, there's some darkness in me around this one. I'm in a room past midnight where light has never existed and my whole body is saying this. Thinking this. Underneath my skin, I'm just a riot of voices - whispering, singing, cajoling and demanding that you BOW DOWN, though I'm not making a single noise out loud. 

I love the vibe of bow down and stare in wonder. I could be up against this wall with a scythe in my hand and you wouldn't notice. I could bring it down on your cocky, stupid head and pieces of me would pull themselves back together while you bled out on the floor. Bow down and stare in wonder, you stupid little bitch. You big tall man who, when you're trying to sleep at night, knows you're a stupid little bitch and you know that I know that too. I know that's why you divorced me. Because you'd already lost me and you knew it. I'd already chewed through the rope you used to tether me to you. Teeth worn down to nubs from the fight but one day I was going to be strong enough to chew through you and you knew it, you pathetic little bitch. Big strong man, afraid of a little blood. Afraid of me – a walking pool of blood because of you.

Bow down and stare in wonder. Interestingly, I don't want you to stare in wonder. This body doesn't want your eyes on her. This heart wants to snap shut on your creeping hand like a venus fly trap.

Bow down and stare in wonder. I'm so tired of being angry. I'm less angry. Even my shoulder feels better  – sore, recovering, less inclined toward blame and self-harm. Oh, how we love you. Whoa. Where did that come from? And I was thinking about my body: Oh, how we love you. I did not see that coming, but it feels nice. Oh how we love you, oh how we love you oh how we love you. Oh, how we love to rip at the seams, but suddenly, you're not the doll we want to go to. Oh, how we love you. Brain muscle contracting. Cells up there sucking in breath like they've been underwater. Tiny, compressed hits of oxygen enough to keep me alive.

🎧 Bring This Prompt into Your Own Body

The essay you just read began as a prompt inside the Body Writers Circle. We take our prompts from song lyrics and write whatever our bodies want to say. If your own body feels full or unsafe to exist in today, I invite you to try this gentle Body Writing™ practice:

Set the Mood: 

Get cozy, plug in headphones and sink into this week's featured song on Spotify.

Listen:

Close your eyes. Don't worry about the lyrics or what they mean intellectually. Just notice how the rhythm, melody and vibe affect your body. What do you feel opening up and coming forward?

Write:

Open your journal and write the opening lyric (Bow down and stare in wonder) at the top of your page. Don't try to match my writing; just notice: what does it bring up for you? What does it make your body want to say? Write for three pages – without editing, censoring yourself or trying to make your writing "good."

Why Journaling Alone Is Only the First Step

While practicing this alone can bring beautiful moments of connection and relief, trying to navigate your deepest, most intense stories alone is a big ask for a sensitive nervous system. When you're the only one holding the pen and the space, your inner critic takes charge easily, causing you to freeze up or pull back before finding the deeper medicine.

True somatic resolution requires co-regulation.

Which is why doing this work inside an ultra-intimate, zero-critique group of just 5 to 6 women changes everything. In the Body Writers Circle, you don't carry emotional weight by yourself. The shared presence of our tiny, trusted community holds space for you – allowing you to feel safe venturing into the depths your body needs without freezing or flooding.

If you feel a quiet, resonant yes to this, you belong with us. 

A new, founding member circle is opening soon. (June 2026)

Add your name to the waitlist here, for first access to a space. 💗