Enjoy The Silence
Sep. 25th, 2017 22:41![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
torquillHaving incorporated some of what I learned on vacation, I find myself calmer, on the whole. More relaxed, sitting more firmly in my sense of self. Which is the idea, I suppose. I've gotten rid of a bunch of the racing thoughts I had a couple of months ago, and my anxiety level is lower. A great deal of that comes from having settled things with Brian; I don't feel like there are any dangling threads there now, since we both know where we stand.
It's times like these that I once again marvel at the sense of inner quiet. Nothing is screaming to get my attention, there's no emotional chaos or the constant mutter of circular thoughts. When I stop to listen it's just.... quiet. It's something I still haven't quite gotten used to, after thirty years of being a hot mess.
Another effect is that every time I eliminate another source of inner conflict, or learn something about how I work -- every time I say oh, that's how I do things, and I should probably readjust my life to reflect that -- it's like a layer of gauze is removed inside, or the white noise gets turned down a notch, and I'm more aware. Not of myself, but of things on the outside. The signals other people put off, in body language and tone and action. The balance of nature in my environment. And most particularly energy flows. I'm now conscious of the difference when I'm walking on an asphalt path rather than a dirt trail, and I vastly prefer the sense of the latter; asphalt feels metaphysically dead and toxic under my feet. I find my sense of the major energy lines nearby intruding gently on my awareness while I drive.
I'm starting to understand why very spiritual people tend to retreat to isolated places. It gets them away from the daily minutiae, all the tasks and deadlines buzzing around us like flies, all the little things that we have to do to keep things ticking over. It gets them away from the possessions that generate these tasks, and the other people who introduce their own requirements. When you get away from the little things that crowd close and thick around us every day, you gain a little space to look at the big and distant things around us: the natural world, including the stars and trees; the movements and meanings of water, and fire, and the subtleties of earth and air; and the vast spaces inside ourselves, which so few people ever acknowledge. Vast, quiet spaces which are not full of anything but are somehow never empty.
I need to set up a regular time to meditate, and stick to it. I'd like to see whether I can clear away the little things long enough to touch the big ones, to stop thinking and listen to the quiet for a little bit. It helps me center myself. As with any other act, the more I do, the better I'll get at it, and it seems like a useful and necessary thing.
It's times like these that I once again marvel at the sense of inner quiet. Nothing is screaming to get my attention, there's no emotional chaos or the constant mutter of circular thoughts. When I stop to listen it's just.... quiet. It's something I still haven't quite gotten used to, after thirty years of being a hot mess.
Another effect is that every time I eliminate another source of inner conflict, or learn something about how I work -- every time I say oh, that's how I do things, and I should probably readjust my life to reflect that -- it's like a layer of gauze is removed inside, or the white noise gets turned down a notch, and I'm more aware. Not of myself, but of things on the outside. The signals other people put off, in body language and tone and action. The balance of nature in my environment. And most particularly energy flows. I'm now conscious of the difference when I'm walking on an asphalt path rather than a dirt trail, and I vastly prefer the sense of the latter; asphalt feels metaphysically dead and toxic under my feet. I find my sense of the major energy lines nearby intruding gently on my awareness while I drive.
I'm starting to understand why very spiritual people tend to retreat to isolated places. It gets them away from the daily minutiae, all the tasks and deadlines buzzing around us like flies, all the little things that we have to do to keep things ticking over. It gets them away from the possessions that generate these tasks, and the other people who introduce their own requirements. When you get away from the little things that crowd close and thick around us every day, you gain a little space to look at the big and distant things around us: the natural world, including the stars and trees; the movements and meanings of water, and fire, and the subtleties of earth and air; and the vast spaces inside ourselves, which so few people ever acknowledge. Vast, quiet spaces which are not full of anything but are somehow never empty.
I need to set up a regular time to meditate, and stick to it. I'd like to see whether I can clear away the little things long enough to touch the big ones, to stop thinking and listen to the quiet for a little bit. It helps me center myself. As with any other act, the more I do, the better I'll get at it, and it seems like a useful and necessary thing.
