Quiet

Yesterday I went for a walk in the woods. It had been weeks since I had been quiet. The stillness screamed at me.

It screamed “I miss you! You need me! Come back!”

I walked and jogged along a paved path bordered with tall trees and sunlight streaming through. Even as I started to settle into the rhythm of nature, I knew I had to keep my eye on the watch, because I didn’t have much time. 30 minutes. Within this interval, I both wanted to decompress and burn calories. The calorie-burning drive pushed me along swiftly. But at some point, I realized I just needed to hold still. I plopped down on the path, cross-legged, facing the sun.

The longer I sat, the more still I got.

The more still I got, the more my brain realized it hadn’t really thought at all, over the last few weeks.

Nothing original, anyways. I was so busy checking my phone, checking emails, and triaging work demands, that I hadn’t conjured up anything mindfully on my own. Every day I planned and immersed myself in things and people — work, boyfriend/family/friends, meals, appointments, and Netflix/HBO.

But where and who is Anita?

I realized how weary I was.

I realized how little I stop. Even when I get in the car, I turn on NPR, or I listen to a podcast. I move along, until I crash.