When a house or room is stale, it helps to air it out.
And the same with our mind.
When something is stale in us, it helps to air it out. To bring attention to it, notice the space it happens within (and as), allow it to expand and take up as much space as it wants, see what it is about, notice it’s nature, and invite it to notice its nature.
Our tendency is often to keep it enclosed. To join in with stale areas in us and reinforce the containment. Or to react to it, and reinforce the containment that way. To get caught up in guilt and shame, and contain it for those reasons. To get caught up in our fear about it, and contain it.
And sometimes, we may not even know how to air it out. To bring sun, wind, and the open space into it. This is where it can be helpful with a more structured process, or at least a guide who can lead us through it. Until it gets more familiar to us, a new habit, and eventually second nature.
What are these stale parts of us? It’s anything that’s unresolved. Any painful belief. Any limiting identity. (And any belief is ultimately painful, and any identity we identify with is limiting.)
It’s what happens when we don’t notice our nature, as capacity for our world, as what our experiences happen within and as, as oneness, love, and stillness and silence. It’s what happens when we don’t notice the nature of our contractions and experiences, and when these don’t notice their own true nature.
It is fully possible to air it all out, especially with some guidance from someone familiar with airing all this out.
And nature, literal fresh air, and physical movement all support this process.