The 1st time I got my own apartment & had my 1st lone sit inside was my 1st big nothing.
Held by one of those clunky papasan chairs that are hard to get into & harder to get out of; creaky & boney. I sat.
Looking at a wall of blank & white being all I wanted to do; realizing- I could.
No one was going to walk in, questioning my inaction.
Never before had I taken such liberties, nor had it occurred to me as an option.
Busy brain owner extraordinaire, my mind is likely like yours; always diligently working to produce fruits.
A perpetual growing season.
When traveling alone I sit on the bed & have another big nothing. It comes over me.
The luxury of this
is everything.
Life doesn’t seem to crop up with these moments very often.
Being beside a forest stream is sweet. There’s a whole different kind of calm. A care & connection that are sparked. And full of so much. Our linkage is summoned. Our hearts become busy. The ocean is much of the same; as is a city in a foreign country full of floating strangers’ heads.
I suppose this is the draw of meditation. Where the emptiness grants a fulfillment.
Is it much like when the night is so quiet that it’s loud?
Try to tell a kid these days the value of vacancy & they might understand better than how I’d have received it as a child. These are over-stimulated times, & I wonder what’s around the corner for this, as we can only crest so high before descending. That is nature, which we still are.
In this hotel room the traffic whirs past, seems to sound out of the thin wall holding me apart from the interstate highway. The lights here cast a soft, welcomed glow. The television is flat before me, but it does not beckon.
My brain is happy as a clam with the gift pile of nothings sitting naked, out of their wrapping.
Pigeon Heart Ponderings 