I sit on the deck in the early morning, eyes closed.
I’m on vacation, but it’s had some unavoidable moments and I’m struggling to unwind. Fighting hard to not check emails.
So I set the timer on my centring prayer app and close my eyes, coffee in hand. I hear the birds singing. Water rushing over rocks down the way. The whir of a hummingbird’s wings. A very persistent cricket.
My mind unclenches.
I lay in the warm grass, face down, in the early afternoon.
I breathe in its earthy smells. I imagine all the little bugs scurrying along with the business of their day, winding through the blades of grass, never looking up to notice me. A butterfly gently dances on the breeze, pausing delicately from time to time. Dragonflies zoom past.
My breathing slows.
I float on my back, under the early evening sky.
I’ve recently learned that a swim is the perfect way to end a run, reducing muscle pain the next day. I can’t stop and think about the ick on the bottom or the turtle on the other side or how cold the water might be. If I stop and think, I’ll lose my nerve. So I take my socks and shoes off, and just head in, sweaty running clothes and all.
The water fills my ears, muting all other sounds. I flip onto my back and open my eyes. All I can see is sky, beautiful and cloudless. I feel weightless and graceful. (I’m neither, but who cares.)
My soul dares to rest.
That sense of the noise stopping as you lay on your back in the water - glorious!
I love your writing and reflections.
It truly is glorious. The silence. Thanks Carmen. 💛