The days are so loud, so messy, so jarring and downright exhausting.
My mind whirrs and whirrs, like an Energizer Bunny jazzed on Espresso beans, unable to stop going-going-going.
My body races at a thousand miles an hour and my heart follows suit.
I forget who I am.
And then the silence comes.
I always think it won’t. That it’s forgotten me.
But like a loyal lover, my darling silence comes back and settles into my heart like it’s always been there. Like it belongs there.
As it rolls through me like a salty wave, I find a split-second of peace. Of not-trying-so-hard-ness. Of just-being-ness. Of just-me-ness.
I remember who I am.
The steady drizzles of succulent quietude melt my cares, turning them into caramel. It’s not that they’re gone; they’re just dialed down for a magic moment, transformed into something sweeter for a second.
I need that sweetness.
Because life can feel so bitter and unrelenting, a raining parade of exhausting madness.
Work harder, they say. Go faster, they say. Do more, they say. Be more, they say.
Be more here, my soul whispers softly.
Be. More. Here.
Right now, I remember.
I’m more here.
The silence sinks in, slowly feeding my starving soul and watering the dry, thirsty grass in my spirit.
I’m more here.
I slow down long enough to experience the luscious thrill of a lavender tangerine sunset and take deep breaths of prolonged steadiness.
Then, I forget. I lose myself in oceans of worries and bouncing vibrations of crowded conversations.
And then the silences comes again.
This time, I savor it, letting it crush me deliciously.
And, I remember—I remember who I am.
Author: Sarah Harvey
Editor: Renée Picard
Image: author’s own