Tag: stillness

I wish for a life that moved at a much slower pace. Most mornings my mind churns out my to-do list long before my feet ever touch the floor. I often think to myself, take a deep breath, try not to rush, the day will unfold soon enough. I want time to stop, just for a moment, to generate the stillness required to reflect on my gratitude for another day on this crazy journey, one not afforded to everyone. A prayerful plea to live this day with more reverence, to witness the awe-inspiring moments that show up in the day to day busyness of our lives. A chance today to slip gently into my body, stretch fully into my skin and feel the steadfast beating of my heart as it toils tirelessly, selflessly, offering me more time to contemplate the meaning of it all.
An appeal to the Gods that today my words will not open more quickly than my heart and that I may leave a trail of kindness to help light the way for others in what can so often feel like a dark and frightening world. May I stretch into more moments where I may find the pause, create a brief refuge from my daily chaos long enough to cultivate enough mindfulness to notice where I may find a sprinkle of joy or a hint of sadness. It is in these quiet moments I remember the simple truths I so often overlook. How my neglected and courageous body waits ever so patiently for my attention. Leaning into the extraordinary privilege of being human and all it entails, tragedy and triumph, love and loss. I wonder sometimes if I can have a heart big enough to hold all of what I may find in the space that my stillness leaves open.
But most days I am far more likely to get caught in the constant grind of the world, dimmed and colorless in its mindless monotony. Exhausted by the repetitive taunting to do more and be more, so much that my head spins, feeling dizzy and rushed, intent on being anywhere but here. Surely, I must believe that if I am moving fast enough I can outrun whatever feels uncomfortable and alien in my body. So, I support this unconscious agenda with a few more cups of coffee, a glass of wine, a chocolate chip cookie, whatever it takes to return to the familiar numbness that coats my frayed nerve endings. Close it down, shut it up, keep it buried another day, my apathy has slipped back almost unnoticed.
Before I rise to meet this day, please let me find a chink in my armor, a small opening that I may hear the call to come back to this life. Wake Up! Wake up! One day, I promise, you will wish you stopped to feel the soft wet kisses of your little one as their body melts into your own, begging for just one more story before sleep takes them from you. At the end of this life, when you face the inevitable slowness that comes with aging, you will remember fondly all the silly arguments with your beloved that you had at least a million times and you will wish to go back once more to taste the tender sweetness of forgiveness.
Please, hurry up and slow down dear one, before your time has all but run out. You are moving far to fast to witness this journey. Put down the coffee, quiet your mind, see, hear, and feel the world around you. Soak it up, drink it in, hold it close, because we don’t have forever.