Those rare moments when the world fades away and a quiet descends. I found myself in one of those yesterday night.
I could hear myself think.
The voice inside did not have an exhausting quality like a fan noise reminding you of the heap of dishes in the sink or an email from a colleague needing a calm response. Neither did the voice have the quality of a performance coach cheering you on to visit the gym or get up and change out of the day’s clothes into a pair of fresh pajamas.
No. This voice was different. A companion who understood my mood. Who was fun as well as relaxing to be with. And it was in this comforting company that words flowed.
So I took the pencil to the notebook and I wrote.
In the background is a silent looming wall clock reminding me of the time. Reminding me it will soon be time to stop writing. But that voice gives me confidence to ignore the clock and scribble for just a little longer.
I picture myself lying underneath the vast expanse of a limitless starry night.
I can almost feel the gentle breeze caress my cheek on a perfectly warm sunny day. That touch of grass as it bends below my wight. The ground beneath the grass that isn’t damp from the morning dew. It simply is the way it’s meant to be for someone to sit on.
Perhaps the welcome shade of an asbestos roof as that first giant drop of evening rain falls. The rhythmic pitter patter of the raindrops on that roof. The knowledge that there is warm food and drink waiting at home.
How about the sensation of sinking into a plush armchair in a secluded corner of the library. The book that I want available without a waitlist. I flip that first page and run my fingers over the paper.
Or maybe I sit on a freshly made bed. The Egyptian cotton bedsheet without a single crease. The pillows fluffed and cool to touch. I look around the room and everything is in its place. Spacious. Counters clean. No dust. The wall clock remains frozen. Time standing still.
Doesn’t seem like a bad place to stop.
Hope you find your moment of peaceful bliss in a busy day.