"Our proprioceptive and interoceptive systems are constantly talking, activating both involuntary and voluntary responses of the body. These reactions dictate our mood, our perception of the world, and our perception of ourselves."
The thing about nature is that it not only involves the trees and the sea, but people, the speed of traffic, the climate in between, and the day in its entirety. In Indian philosophy, particularly Hinduism, it’s called Prakriti.
Energy does not only exist; it flows. It shuffles.
I look at mindfulness as an empirical study of thought and feeling. But the thoughts turn up unannounced. I hide in the coat closet on a frantic phone call to my husband as I yet again pluck him out of his daily toil.
“I spent the day puttering around the house, avoiding their menacing presence. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, go back to work,” I say.
I prefer finding that thought before it meets a feeling.
I am in a state of urgency, in this lost state of agency. There is a demand that needs meeting. I oscillate between two pairing thoughts, and I send text messages faster than I should, my boss asking me whether we need to talk.
“I was only recording my thoughts,” I say. “I did not have to involve you in it.”
A balancing scale sways up and down, softly pendulating, responding to two opposite forces before it can reach equilibrium. This is no different from the nervous system responding to a hyper-arousal state, or the body wobbling in a balancing yoga pose.
Here lies another day wasted, staring at a blank screen of an unfinished thing, of what will be another forgotten account I’m documenting.
I’ve been spending cold mornings with my dog, watching him play. Observing him as I try and write anything. I am weary, at a loss for words, mostly, and meaning, a compass spinning.