the hushing time
"It is in us to work our experience - our pain and frustration our confusion and wonder - into threads of silk." ~ Mark Nepo
Hush sweet one, I need to listen.
It seems to me that our experience now is both individual and together. People are trying to mark it in their memory, add it to their timelines on FB.
It's a hushing time. A time to put down the brick, as Tara Mohr, acclaimed author of Playing Big, so beautifully phrases it, and follow the rhythm of this time alone yet together.
We all have hushing times. They're the minutes we want to soften. We quiet the noise and distraction and say, "Hush. I want to savour this moment."
In that second, you choose to be fully alive and experience what's right in front of you.
And we can relive those times whenever we want.
My sleeping son. Three years old. Napping on my bed. The curve of his face. The softness of his lips. His hand clutching the fine curl of his hair. In those few minutes I was wrapped in simple love. Delight, wonder, curiosity, sadness, filled my head and heart. I let go of time, allowed it to slow and followed the rhythm of his breath and it became my breath. We were one, again.
When my mother was dying, I held a time and space with her and for her. The grief, the beauty. I let the tears come and moved through the seconds with her, until it was time for me to let go, and she to move on.
Eventually, like all beautiful moments that we allow ourselves to fully experience, we are called back to the "real" world. But which world is real? The one where we fully, humanly experience it, or the one where we rush through it; numb ourselves; or fill our time with endless tasks?
When we accept that stillness and quiet is part of what we need, we're able to clearly see what matters most.
The sunlight through the window. The children playing in the bedroom. Heartache. The sand between your toes. The smell of coffee in the morning. The warmth of sun on your face. The rising of a crocus in the spring. A hoody straight outta the dryer. A good bottle of red wine. A rainbow on a rainy day. Tears on our cheeks. A kiss goodbye. The grass under your feet.
The ordinary miracles in our day.
This is the deal, though. Zenning out all the time is not reasonable thing to expect of yourself. Some people do it better than others. Good for them. This isn't a thing to add to your guilt or perfection list. Let that sh*t go.
Life isn't one big still moment. The rhythm ebbs and flows. Up and down, back and forth. But the simple truth is that wonder, delight, love, pain, sorrow, hurt is happening all the time, all around.
Plant your feet on the ground, as the world moves around you, and with a softened heart pay attention.
Find your hushing times. One, or two, or three, or more. And let them work their magic.
Just as the worm works his thread, pauses and then emerges a butterfly, we too have the ability to emerge a being full of color and aliveness.
love and blessings,
laurie-ell xo
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