I crouched down into the grass and put my palms against the earth. My feet were wet from walking through the morning dew.
I listened. It was quiet. I heard a couple of birds chirping and the distant hum of lawn mowers.
I let the quiet take me in and whisper to me its secrets.
I felt held by the ground beneath me. Not just the spinning earth, but something else. Like there was a presence holding me too. More pervasive than the air; it seeped into my cells and whispered, “Steady.”
I let myself be held.
And there, in this silent embrace, I saw two worlds.
One was the world of the mind. It was busy! There were words and images and colors flying through at dizzying speeds and variety.
I could hear bits of their noise, it sounded like my thoughts, telling lines of stories. Busy, busy, busy.
And underneath that world, another. This one was quiet. It felt thick like hot, humid summer air.
It let the other world play on top of it. Like a stage supporting the acts of a play.
It didn’t seem to care what stories were playing out. It just held steady in its own knowing of itself.
I looked closer at this quiet world, I felt into it.
It just said, “Steady, steady, steady.” And it seemed to smile, just a bit, like those statues of Buddha or the Mona Lisa.
I remembered that it really doesn’t matter what I’m doing. My story is supported. Whether the story makes me cry or rejoice. I’m still held, loved, supported. I can at any point choose to speak a different story.
I remembered to tell my conscious mind to relax a little. To remind it that we’re taken care of. And to let it be. To let go of the heavy weight and let it drop into that quiet and be held for awhile.
And watch how magic effortlessly seeps into our life.