It is some hour past midnight. You are nudged to the edge of the bed. There is no clock in the room, but you can hear the silent minutes slow down to louder seconds as you tell yourself to keep the peace in your people by remaining still on the edge.
Each present tik sounds louder when it toks to the past. You wonder if clock makers meant to give us that restless feeling when they made the passing of time beat this way.
You also wonder why your body keeps waking. You realise that you always wonder even when you know why and that you also understand your biology. But sometimes you want a different explanation. One that you could do something about.
You feel your anxiety rise out of the depth of your subconscious, surfacing to your conscious. When you feel helpless in steering your mind, body and soul, you give up and you shut your eyes tight.
You’re in bed,
But in your head:
The mountains are rhythmically breathing in tandem.
Align your breathing with theirs.
Tune in with the branches of the tall trees as they sway up on their inhale.
A few small rocks crumble downwards on their exhale.
Lift your heart up, then let your legs go.
Tell yourself that you’re flying. Even if you’re falling. Because if you can fly, you also have the ability to pause mid-air and isn’t that something you really need to do? Yes.
Certainly.
You’re in bed,
But in your head
You tell yourself:
“This steep slope I am breathlessly ascending will be kinder to my heart on my descent. I won’t need to stop to catch a breath of air. I may even forget to draw in a breath as I fly down.”
It will be like your breath will follow a few steps behind you, laughing at your forgetfulness of the basics of survival as it tries to catch up to keep you alive.
Align your breathing with the mountains.
You’re in bed,
But in your head:
Look at everything big and when you look at the small things, stop and contemplate for a long time.
Let your gaze drink up the smallness of what you see until it expands inside your gut, creeps up into your throat and catches you off guard with laughter.
Laugh with the largeness and existence, laugh with the details of small things and how they make you feel.
Like this petrified piece of wood that is a thousand years old, traveling from some volcanic area very very far from here.
You can make up for it many possible stories, but stay silent.
Don’t speak for it.
Let it be.
Align your breathing with the mountains.
You’re in bed,
But in your head:
Listen: That leaf crunches, this drip drops, these branches crack from the weight of the snow. Streams of ice cold water trickle and wind their way through, around and inside obstacles.
They know what to do. So do you.
Gaze to the distance where old and abandoned wooden chalets stand like valiant statues of mountain climbers. A furry mammal you can’t name wiggles one ear as she hears you step closer to her private haven. Smile for the gift of motherhood.
Here, granite is taking a lifetime to cool for the minerals to marry and form into a quartz crystal.
Soon, someone will carry it to the valley, mount a part of it on a silver band to make a necklace and it will have a very different fate than it would have if it remained between the rocks.
Or maybe not.
Let it be.
Align your breathing with the mountains.
When you see a tree bend to almost 180 degrees to catch a glimpse of the sun it needs for its growth, remember to roll away the tension in your shoulders.
Nature’s magnificence is not apart from you, nor even is it only a part of you, it is wholly and integrally you: inside and out.
Nature is the only place from which you can begin to hope again and aspire.
Lose yourself in it, that’s how you keep finding yourself again too: transformed for a new season.
Rest well. Rest powerfully on this edge. It is to your heartbeat that your loved sleeping beings will synchronise their heartbeats. Don’t let those heartbeats stray.
Remain in your head while you’re in bed.
Be still.
Align yourself with the mountains.
Beisan A. Alshafei
August 6th, 2023
Beisan's Burble 