Sometimes, I need to be quiet. That’s my excuse for silence here. I can be a talker but recently I’ve needed to listen to the wind, the birds, the waves and an often elusive silence. I’ve been cultivating quiet inside of me even as I hear the endless hum of cars on the nearby highway.
Over the past month, I have started paragraphs of posts and then abandoned them as I wrestle with what this blog is for me. It’s personal yet not my journal. I write memoir and that requires raw honesty and so in this space where I have a kind community of readers and fellow bloggers, I should work on that.
I’ve had some dramatically rough patches but that’s just the stuff of life, right? Everyone has a story and together we’re here in a sea of waves of sadness and joy churning away on this remarkable planet spinning through the universe. Somehow we all do our best to hold on for the ride. I’m determined to live this downward slope of my life in as much joy as I can muster. I aspire to not be burdened by the past nor to worry about the future because it is only in the present that breath exists. And I’m filling my lungs!
7 thoughts on “Being Quiet and Learning to Breathe Again”
Isn’t it amazing how when you focus on the breath it immediately brings you into the present? A built in reset button. It is a pleasure to be on this journey beside you Tricia. The ups and downs will continue, like the waves, and may our friendship be like the sand on the shore, receiving, soaking it in, and moving with the tide.
I love that – it indeed feels like ‘reset’. And love you, my wise friend.
Seems like many of us have had some of these needs & times lately. I saw this mantra somewhere & put it in my Journal – “I am enough, & life loves me. I am safe & all is well. Repeat every day.
Love this Tricia!
So good to hear your voice again. I’m sorry to hear you’re on a downward slope right now. It’s been a brutal winter for you all out east. I hope spring comes soon. I too wake up grateful for breath and try to set my fears down.
I know those downward slopes all too well. I’ve found that they do eventually pass, if they aren’t resisted. Just know that your presence is cherished.
I love your photo of the ocean, and your last lines about breathing. They speak to each other and reflect that constant give and take you write about, those waves of joy and sadness. May you feel the strength and healing power that comes with those waves, my friend.