The crashing calm of thunderstorms shouting down the voices inside my head the violent contrast of safety indoors simple gratitude for physical shelter There is no need to rush around when the electric atmosphere hisses overhead the deep, rumbling growls of dark clouds vibrate at a strangely soothing frequency The forced introspection of sunless days feels less daunting when it rains there is plenty of time for me to decide all the important things that press upon me Today I have the chance to listen and breathe in the moist, cool air claps of thunder like mindful bells guide me back to this small moment
Oath of Silence
A silent prayer for quiet is drown out by detestable drivel this out of body experience of being unable to stop myself from speaking is unbearable Double voice of internal tongue-lashing while arrogant assertions and petty comments continue to spill from cracking, spiteful lips in the moment it doesn't feel like a choice Conversations contaminated with dread presenting myself as someone I don't want to be the sickening shame of perpetually poisoning others' perceptions of me The reoccurring oath of silence never seems to matter when my mouth falls open again against my will how have I still not learned how to bite my tongue or simply speak in line with my true intention?
Why I Write
I feel like I’ve been struggling to come up with anything to write about for quite a long time now. When I first started writing every day, it was something I looked forward to. Now it’s nearly become something to dread. I can’t think of anything that I want to say. Even looking up writing prompts hasn’t been much help. Today I’ve finally decided to just write about the reason I write in the first place.
I let myself get too caught up in the details. It doesn’t really matter what I decide to write about. It’s the process itself that I enjoy. Sure often a certain topic I’m passionate about in the moment makes it easier to get into that flow state, but it isn’t necessary. More than anything, I just like spending some quiet time alone with my thoughts. Writing gives my brain something specific to focus on. It’s a chance to let the rest of the world fade away for an hour or so.
I love the way it feels rapidly hitting the keys on my laptop. I love the sound they make. I love watching the words magically appear on my screen. It doesn’t matter what those words are or whether anyone will read them. There doesn’t always need to be a lofty purpose for everything that I do. Sometimes it’s nice just to do something anything, with focused attention. This is the real reason that I write. It doesn’t make a difference if I have nothing to say.
Living with anxiety for so long has taught me that most of the time those anxious feelings come from trying to live in the future. Anything that can consume your attention and ground you in the here and now is wonderfully calming. The hard part is getting yourself to sit down and focus when you’re worrying about something. I’ll often find myself desperately trying not to worry about something in the future. What would be more helpful is finding something in the present to give my full attention. I don’t spend time trying to find the most productive or important thing to focus on. I just have to pick something.
This is why intentions can be so helpful. It’s easy to lose your center as your move through your day. Today my intention is to be present and enjoy myself. Nothing more, nothing less. I don’t always have to take life so seriously. It’s okay to just be happy about the little silly things like seeing those baby geese by the pond on my way to work or snuggling with my dog for a few minutes on the couch this morning. Everything is just fine. Life is beautiful and I’m grateful to be here.