You’re doing fine and the next second you feel an
overwhelming wave crash over you and you’re having trouble breathing. For a
whole minute you are trapped; thinking you will never, ever make it or function
properly again. You think: it will kill me, there is no way I can survive this
unbroken. Bewildered and terrified, it will be one of the worst moments of your
life.
You will make it out alive. You just need to remind yourself
how it ends next time it happens.
….
It starts in your heart. A sting. Brought on by a favorite
song that has always moved you, a kissing couple in the subway. Flicking a
cigarette and catching sigh of your hand. Then it spreads, all over. It takes
you over within a minute and you find yourself involuntary disconnected from
everything around you, acutely aware of how hollow you have become. You feel a
thousand years old worth of yearning, and the force of a hundred suns holding
you back, restraining you, in the here and now. The here and now.
It fades away. But it comes back stronger. Always.
….
A terminal search for silence. And because quietness and
peace are not always synonymous, there seems to be a need for a pacifier. It’s
an incredible gift to know how to be still. What's even more incredible, is to
know how to teach it.
….
