20 December 2017

Changing my mind

Night time is the hardest.  As a woman of a certain age, I often wake regardless.  A pin point of light in the wrong color—the yellow dot on the cable box, the orange “Visio” on the bottom of the tv, the white light of my husband’s phone, or the blue light of the heart monitor I just unplugged—will awaken me.  My husband’s phone is not here right now.  It is with him in another city.

I am here alone in our bed.  Anxious.

The light is not the only thing that awakens me.

Last night I called him and asked him to tell me one thing that I could do to help slow my heart from racing. 

Stretch

Should I stand up and do that now?

No.  Don’t stand.  Sit.

Now?

Yes.

I sit up in the bed.  My covers still over my legs.  It’s cold in the room.  I am cold.  I place my feet together.  I bend at the waist.  I reach.  

After the past week, my back is tight.  I have not been moving enough.  

Tonight, I awaken.  1:00 am.  A rattlesnake in my dream.  In the building where I work.  A colleague asks if I have considered it.  I had.  Then awake.  

I begin my mediation.  The one I started last night.  I am not very good at mediation.  My mind races like my heart.

Be Still

Be Still

Be Still

I picture a rock.  It’s dark.  Smooth like water rubbed across it for a long time.  Smooth.  Dark.  I do not get to the end of the mediation phrase.  I stay with that part.  That is the part I need in my spirit right now.  It is not working.  My thoughts are racing.  I think of my husband.  I am wondering. 

My presence is not required there.

My presence is not required there.

For every thought that strays from my mediation

My presence is not required there.

I sit up in my bed and reach for my ankles.  I hold on.  My back is tight.  Stiff.  I hold my ankles.  Breathe.  

Be Still

Be Still

Be Still

My heart slows.  My mind slows.  My back aches feeling like one of those rusted out bridges in Pittsburgh.