Silent weightlessness

To fully appreciate this post, please read yesterday’s post first.

In the musicals I loved to watch as a kid, with Gene Kelly, Fred Astairs, Ginger Rogers and Judy Garland, when things got together, the music would lead to a crescendo and from that on to a grand finale. Somehow I still expect there to be violins when big things happen. Interestingly, in real life, the opposite is true.

When I woke up this morning, everything was silent. It was still early, there was no traffic yet, but the silence had nothing to do with anything outside of me. It took me some time to figure out that I am experiencing the absence of internal noise. This stillness includes the absence of movement. It is as if the pendulum that normally swings from one side to the other has halted in the middle. There is no feeling attached to this state. I feel energetic and yet have no need or desire to do (except now write). There is a no-thingness, an is-ness, an emptiness that I find hard to describe. It is neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It just is. Silent weightlessness probably is the most accurate description I can come up with.

Tomorrow things will be different again, and in two weeks, when my body has adapted to the changes brought about by the release of all the amassed emotions, things will be different again. So today, instead of chasing the illusion that things need to be done, I will simply do what I feel inspired to do and feel the sacred space inside of me. I will breathe in and breathe out and feel all there is to feel. Because this experience is as much part of the healing as was the releasing I did over the past days. I breathe in and out and feel my whole body, pulsing in the rhythm of my heart. There is joy when I tap into this silent weightlessness, peaceful joy. A deep knowing that all is well.

picture by H. Berends