A commitment to ten minutes of sitting. I monitor the breath. I count. I come to stillness. Then sensation. Tingling in hands and the feeling of floating. A capacity on one hand to keep going, on the other, an anticipation. For the sound of the bell, of the call for “mommy” to yank me back.
Though stillness does carry through further into the morning, into the garden, where I measure.
Until friends pass by without words and stillness turns into uncertainty. Suppleness in muscles becomes ache. Though I am aware of the second arrow. Of the mind’s tendency to interpret. But this is a heart hurt. That transcends today and yesterday.
Many have come and gone, still come and go. Leaving a gorge that cuts into my middle.
But this evening, perhaps a new beginning.
The out there and the in here… How to marry them?
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