One moment in time

When you’re not going somewhere, eating something, sleeping, waiting for something, reading something, writing something, making something, talking to someone, scratching something, holding something, using something or otherwise doing something – what are you doing?

Do you cease to exist?

I like to cease to exist at least once a day. When my head is so full of words they fall out of my mouth in a jumble, my smile’s broken and my soul hurts, I stop. I cease to exist.

First I let the world go. I unclench my hands from the worries they carry and let all the parts of me become stone, simultaneously light as a feather and solid as a tree. Coil by coil the pressure unwinds itself from my body, until my skin begins to tingle.

I don’t dream of other worlds, far off places and fantasy universes, for they are nothing but torture. While you are far away, strolling Eden and brimming with love, the universe aligns and everything is beautiful, but eventually you wake up, the day dream ends. The world forces itself upon you and reality reveals an infinite list of what you do not and cannot have, a play by play recording of what you cannot do. The systematic destruction of your fantasy world leaves you at best nostalgic and at worst, empty. And so I don’t follow my thoughts, I let them run free from me, they explode out amongst the trees and I watch them blow far, far away over the rooftops.

The world here is busy. I feel the grass brush against me, the breeze swallows me up, the clouds roll past. Life swirls around me as I swim in an ocean of its delights. I float above myself, apart from myself, all the while within myself. Birds squawk, their wings clap overhead, there is the sound of a football, car engine, sprinkler, dogs barking, light footsteps, meandering conversation and pale laughs. The sun is setting over suburbia, the clouds a magnificent pink, the horizon a distant orange, and I have ceased to exist.

Close your eyes and walk. Take an experiment in living, investigate its core. Breathe. Sit and feel the air against your eyelashes. Feel life move around you. Stand in the middle of a crowded street and let it pass you by.

Now.

It can’t wait. What could matter more?

Be.

{In the interests of transparency it must be noted that the author was attacked by mosquitoes whilst researching this piece.}