Om Namah Shivaya

Today is one of those days. It’s one of those days when the sun is neither completely in hiding nor dripping thick honey rays gleefully upon us. One of those days where the clouds are blurry and sprawling dusty grey across the skyline, crying neither cold, damp tears down upon us, nor sweeping steadily eastward, fluffy and happy as they are on hot August afternoons. This morning I stood on my porch and watched them, waiting for some action, some involvement on their part. But they just sat there, like heavy benevolent barges skimming slowly across a sea, taking their dear old time to get anywhere, nowhere perhaps. They are meditating I suppose, contemplating their next move. And so today I’m noticing this general stillness not only in the sky overhead but also in the air around me, a tranquility that in my busy life I rarely choose to settle down deeply into. It’s days like these that this agnostic self of mine feels a slight bit of something Devine-like around me, swaddling me in stillness, demanding I let go of the anxiety that fills my daily mind. Today the wind isn’t blowing and the traffic outside is barely audible and the phone hasn’t rung and something deep is I think staring me firmly in the face. It’s goading, asking me what I’m going do about this stillness, knowing that in most instances I would run fast from such stunning calm.
My big red fuzzy dog, my little baby boy, is curled up like a ball in his cedar chip bed snoozing the day away. I watch as his little toes wiggle here or their and his nose twitches in dreamy delight, yips and barks peeking out from between his lips. I imagine he’s is dreaming of his canine friends, of trips to the river, things that make him happy rather than the day to day stress of being left home alone for hours on end and probably having daily abandonment anxiety. Maybe he’s on to something, this little man of mine. Today I think I will take a cue from him and from those big stubborn and still clouds above. I will read my book and relish the silence rather than try to distract myself from it. I will leave the stereo, the television, and the cell phone off and be with my thoughts, no matter how scary they may be and how corny that sounds. Should inspiration strike, maybe I will actually cook a real meal, rather than filling my body with the usual diet of snacky foods that I let waltz around in my stomach daily, trying desperately nourish me in vain. Maybe I will knit or paint or take a long walk. Maybe I will sit and do absolutely nothing and concentrate on allowing this ever-racing mind of mine to steadily slow to a halt and be in this very moment, this quiet, still, cloudy day. I will om namah shivaya, or, honor the divinity that resides within. Namaste.