Tasting the Acorn

Chilled

December 28, 2011

Here I sit, at 8am on December 28th, 2011, on the bed in the spare room of a friend who lives in Troon. The wind howls past the window and anything not under the duvet feels refrigerated, which no doubt most people will know means that anything under the duvet feels nice and cosy.

In quiet moments like this I find it very difficult to ignore my inner monologue. The incessant drone of fears, doubts, worries, guilt, and mild panic that permeates every moment of my life suddenly becomes deafening. The hustle and bustle of life fades away to reveal an underlying current of disharmony. So I breathe.

I breathe so consciously that nothing is able to interrupt my concentration. I build a wall around my breathing; a fortress around my attention.

Breathing in.

Breathing out.

Breathing in.

With every lung-full I feel clarity engulf me from within. An explosion of calm builds with every exhalation. A sea of fragments washes over me.

Tide goes out.

Tide comes in.

Tide goes out.

Each wave carries a piece of my awareness; I watch as each one rises to the surface then sinks back into the depths. Momentary glimpses into that which demands my attention, but one at a time. My life buffet laid out into courses, marshalled into order to yield incredible clarity.

Resisting the urge to question, dissect and analyse. It's a challenge. This is my life, my awareness. This is the substance of who I am… but not really. These are the minutia; the incidentals. These are the post-it notes littered around my perceived existence. These are not important.

But they are! They are important to me! Who am I without these important things that occupy my mind? What am I for if not to deal with these items, this to-do list? Why am I?

Breathing in.

Breathing out.

Breathing in.

I watch closely while I exhale. I watch to see that which is riding the wave of my breath. I bid it farewell and give it time to fly away before drawing my next breath; before inhaling another wave ready to carry another thought.

Breathing out.

Breathing in.

Hold it.

I pause to give a thought time to form; time to coalesce. Some come quickly; some take time. I resist the urge to help, knowing they must assemble themselves lest they be less than their true nature. In this state I see only the surface, and the occasional glimpse of the chaos that lies beneath. The swirling milieu of my mind fades into darkness as a single thought enters the light. Focusing slowly, allowing space for maximum clarity; standing far back at all times.

This is a safe space; a place devoid of judgement and free from the normal rigours of life. This is where I can be me, separated from the things I think are me but aren't really me. Here, I can be.

Simply, be.

Breathing out.

Breathing in.

Breathing out.

Chilled.

blog comments powered by Disqus