There’s something really amazing about the way your mind will unfold itself for you, when you give yourself stillness. Silence.
It’s the secret little gift that you give yourself, most of the time by accident and hardly ever when you “need it” to unfold.
Wrapped in an afghan on my front porch, I noticed the two rose bushes lining our fence and remembered that my Grandma Bernice, had rose bushes just like these in front of her house. Where I spent endless summers running pantless through the sprinklers, throwing pizelle “frisbees” at whomever passed by, a handful from the beginning. I remember using my first bit of youthful restraint not to pick the blooming flowers, despite their beauty and wanting to keep them as MY OWN. A lesson that as a grown woman, I would find hard to digest; with people, places and opportunities...whatever was forbidden and beautiful, I would want. The lesson in restraint is a hard one...harder for some than others. Harder when you see the potential, what those roses would look like on your bedside table, what that job would feel like in your schedule...what the man would snuggle like in your morning hair.
In an act of overcoming writer's block, I took a drag of my Turkish Camel Blues, left behind by one of our rotating bevy of guests- as houses tend to do, we’ve started accruing visitors of all degrees in friendship....home makes people feel welcome. No matter the closeness. A truth I’ve come to embrace and know that it’s hard for people to ask for the comfort of home, because articulating “home,” as a needed emotion makes a grownup feel like a kid again- a vulnerability that we spend our entire young adulthood attempting to grow-out of.
But, In that stillness, with the grey sky overhead I remembered versions of “home” by taste and scent; that my ex smoked these cigarettes and that every time I joined him with our morning cup of coffee, I felt this kind of gray. A grey, I remember by accidentally unlocking that memory bank- we store and think no longer affects us. A gray that thankfully was now only a memory, one that I’m now detached from and simply observing. I also remembered that my Grandpa used to smoke these cigarettes. I guess I didn’t know as a kid that he was even a smoker, but this scent made me remember him- living in his condo, the one with the ceramic pots on the steps and the fresh biscuits every morning.
A place I revered as a palace... the place where I learned to love musicals, learned to paint, a place that fostered my insatiable curiosity and desire to see the world and have it all. Where petrified Piranha’s sat on the mantel, exotic saltwater fish swam in the tanks, beaded dolls from Panama, carvings from Africa scattered around the house....artifacts and relics as toys- a nudge from the God’s to my 6 year old self that there was more to see. Perhaps this place was where I believed that the world as a whole was actually mine.….Another lesson that, through growth and age I’d learn was an attachment that only caused suffering in the long run.
But still, with that taste and that scent... I believe again, 26- single, dreaming... that the world IS IN FACT, mine. In whatever capacity I perceive it to be.
It’s easy to feel off center, or like we don’t know the answers; to our healing, to our desires, to our fate...when there’s so much noise. Or in yoga, “chitta vritti” -mind chatter. Even the intent to “observe” can be noisy, when you’re trying to observe to mask the layers of what’s going on internally.
There’s no noise here today, no time limit to force upon ourselves, just this stillness. There’s a boy who picked a flower and was taking the time to smell it while he walked to his car, a hummingbird that lives next door, a grown man on a pink Vespa, a broken hearted girl...they all existed in a 10 minutes time frame...all I had to do was look around. Get out of my own head and my own drama. My own self doubt and obsession.
It’s too easy to think that our own story is the most profound and confusing one and to miss the synchronicities of the Universe self-correcting and revealing itself to us as being “all good.” When things aren’t in upheaval it can feel as if you’re just coasting, but that isn’t the truth at all...the truth is much more delicate, takes a keen eye...a patient spirit...and a tranquil detachment from what we’ve decided is the-only-possible-plan-we-could-want.
Hush, hush little babies... be mindful of the things that cloud your mind, or pull you away from hearing the truth... be careful not to overindulge in the perception of others being "better," or having something you want... see your own life, for just a quick moment from the lens of someone else- or from your own lens with a shifted perception.....things look pretty peachy. Hush, hush.
What can you OBSERVE today?