At the end of this day, at this particular second, held between a mug of beer and a cigarillo, I feel like the moment I’m experiencing was made for another person–a quieter self.
On Sunday the Minister at First United talked with the kids about playing dress up, how playing other selves can open us to new experiences and perspectives.
I think, tonight, that is what I’m doing. Playing dress up in the hopes of feeling like someone else for a moment. Stepping away from my melancholy to indulge in some beautiful quiet. These are the sacred moments for me–my deck, the darkness, soft music, beer and a cigarillo–these are my holy moments, sparse but powerful.
My Reverend Quiet; my closest minister. I am relearning to breathe between all the chaos of anxiety and duty, expressed through daily life’s simple tugs: chores, work, friends, study…etc.
I think a lot of people might judge the way I’m choosing to escape, telling me I’m self-medicating. And, I am, I know I am. But, at the heart of it that’s what I believe sacred stillness is. It is opening oneself up to the healing and peace that comes from resting in the rich beauty of the world around us. A beauty that is painful and raw and soothing in all of its realness; a realness that assures us we are one part of a greater tangible whole.
I may be getting a little abstract, but Reverend Quiet does that to me–we meet far too little, at my own fault and detriment. Unfortunately it takes a wounded heart to bring me here, and an excuse like a mug of beer and a smoke (did I mention there’s chocolate?) to set aside the time. As an extravert I almost need an excuse to bring myself to a place of intentional quiet and stillness.
So, I happily self-medicate on music and quiet, removing myself from a den of over-eating and obsessively watching Netflix. I sit in my peace and hope towards this different self, that when tomorrow finally comes I’ll wake up as one part more of her.
That is my prayer.