Pixel Dance

Stop. What you’re doing. What you’re thinking. What you’re being. Stop. Take a deep breath. What do you hear? What’s around you? What’s happening in your body? Are you hungry? Do you feel sad? Frustrated? Can you hear the breath of the person nearest to you? Is it fast, short, syncopated? Is there laughter? Stop.

I am sitting here, listening to my furnace hum. My dog is breathing deeply, on the precipice of sleep. And my tiny portable printer is crankily spitting out smooth pages. The late autumn sun is streaming in the back window. I know it because I notice the angle of the sun, how it effects the blue of the sky, how it changes the shadows. I taste the bubbles of a diet drink I should have passed on. The tops of my fingers are cold, but the pads are warm against these metal keys. I have a sore stomach, and as I type this, my stress is coming down, as I breathe more purposefully, more slowly, more deeply.

I am quiet. Are you quiet? Maybe not yet. Maybe now. It’s not very often that we are quiet. That we are feeling and seeing only what’s happening now. Right now. Therapists will commonly tell patients to “stay in the moment.” It’s a reference to a coping mechanism that we often use to escape our pain. We’re not here. We’re in our past, trying to justify it, re-spin it, fix it. Or we’re in our future, planning ahead, evaluating a next move, hoping for something new, planning for one day. But now is often not so appealing. Now is bills, problems, lack of control. So we add noise. Distraction. Vicarious living. We jump out of the moment, and into the noise.

But think about quiet. Quiet, right here, right now.

Quiet is gratefulness. An inventory of what is, an acknowledgement of all. A point of view that sees past the noise that is clammering for attention. A look beyond what needs you right now, to see what you really have. A thankful knowledge of breathing, being, loving. Being loved.

Quiet is confidence. It is a sense that I don’t have to move. The opposite is anxiety. Hurry is anxiety. Unmet expectations. Not good enough. More. Quiet is fine right now. Unmoved. Unreactionary. Although noise and action might seem in control, I think when you are quiet, you are really most in control. Not acting out of defense mechanisms, and concocted manipulations. Quiet puts you in touch with who you really are deep within – the person who makes the right choices, with the right motives.

Quiet is honesty. Noise fools. Crowds drag you along with them, give you a large stick and a torch on the way to the uproar. Quiet decides knowingly, separately. Quiet listens to you, respects your opinion.

Quiet is reality. The way it is, with no dressings. No need to make it fancier. You are who you are, and the good and the bad live together, forging a soul, a spirit, an experience. A life. A precious, precious life. No matter what the noise says, you are to be commended. You’ve done well. And maybe you are to be corrected. But it’s welcome here. It’s right. There’s no fear, no disappointment. There is reality, and it is an independent voter.

Quiet is discovery. The things you secretly hope for. The things you know about yourself that you don’t let out into the open. The parts you forgot were there – the talents, the joys, the philosophies. The things you’re too old for, like dancing and coloring. But just stretch out your arm – it’s still there. It’s always been there.

Quiet is love. There’s no side to persuade you to. No hidden agendas, subversive intentions. Quiet waits to make you safe. To give you power. To let you decide. It holds your voice in its hand. It wants the best for you. Quiet is you spending time with you, getting to know you, believing the best about you. Giving you what you need.

Imagine if we all stopped. Right now. Got quiet. Lived life from here. I want to.

I hope you’ve been able to stop, to be quiet. Come back any time you need to. Quiet always waits for you.