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<\/a><\/h3>\nChapter 35.<\/em><\/h4>\nThere\u2019s a fearful\u00a0quiet\u00a0that permeates when you do nothing.<\/h3>\n
The silence leaks into my bones and stills my clumsily racing heart\u2014until I feel my heartbeat quicken, made uneasy by the restless thoughts that still churn beneath my tank-top covered breast. These thoughts aren\u2019t bad or unwanted, just\u2026unsettling.<\/p>\n
I settle into this silence <\/a>anyway; urging the quaking evident within me to rest (although I haven\u2019t moved). Calm and steady, I appear\u2014tired and empty is how I feel.<\/p>\nThis house contains my family. Turned into a home by tiny smiles and small waving hands, saying \u201cbye-bye\u201d for no better reason than to hear her own voice. Clinks, clangs and chimes from metal stirring metal in the kitchen, where he works diligently, lovingly and efficiently to make another beautiful dinner for the three of us. And yet I feel alone.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s not that I truly feel alone\u2014I know that I\u2019m loved and, more, I know I\u2019m safe and cared for. Still, there\u2019s an aching and a longing within my slowly beating chest that\u00a0pounds and pounds and thumps and thumps<\/em>\u00a0for the desire of something more than I\u2019m getting at the moment.<\/p>\nI decide to begin a new book<\/a>\u2014not reading a new book, writing a new one. It\u2019s time.<\/p>\nI feel how my words go on and on for days, but there\u2019s something missing within them because the most important ones are being ignored.<\/p>\n
I ignore these words and my next big work because I\u2019m terrified that I won\u2019t feel as connected to it as the first one that I penned; the one that I wrote for her and for her tiny hands. So procrastination in the form of other books and smaller things containing my ideas has filled this empty space instead of what should have, and for nothing more than insecurity.<\/p>\n
I am not an insecure person.<\/p>\n
I dream big and laugh even bigger and I love and live life with passion, humor and intensity. There\u2019s something meaningless contained within it, though, because recently I\u2019ve regularly failed to display this hidden well that continually bubbles up inside of me.<\/p>\n
I regain awareness of where I am and I shift consciously into something significantly less conscious; returning to the stillness, and to the quiet.<\/p>\n
It fills up this space and it makes me feel full. There\u2019s a threat that comes along with fullness\u2014I\u2019m incredibly aware of that also\u2014because sooner or later you know\u2014I\u2019ve learned\u2014that it drains either slowly or suddenly like thepssssssss<\/em>\u00a0of a punctured balloon.<\/p>\nWith eyelids unmoving\u2014unblinking\u2014I place my right hand on my heart.<\/p>\n
Thump, thump, pound, pound.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\nI will the nagging worries of selfishness and lacking away, but they insist on coming back stronger because no matter how hard I have tried, I understand\u2014I\u2019ve learned this as well\u2014that feelings shouldn\u2019t be ignored\u2014mistaken for letting go.<\/p>\n
I know what letting go feels like.<\/p>\n
It feels like shoulders softening, heart lifting, eyes welling up with tears.<\/em><\/p>\nIt feels like fingers slacking, arms hugging, lips turned up at the corners.<\/em><\/p>\nIt feels, too, like that irreverent enemy\u2014quiet, fearful stillness\u2014because<\/em>\u00a0letting go\u00a0means that you\u2019ve become empty in order to fill again, and you wait, but not patiently.<\/em><\/p>\nMy right hand drifts down my supine body to settle upon a concave belly. I feel the angular protrusions of hip bones and vividly\u2014yet briefly\u2014remember how it felt to hold her\u2014my unborn daughter\u2014there.<\/p>\n
What no one told me about having a child is that you don\u2019t change that much\u2014you\u2019re still\u00a0you<\/em>, only now you add\u00a0mother<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0full-time heart holder<\/em>\u00a0to your list of dutiful, hallowed roles.<\/p>\nSqueals and laughter shouts from down the hall. I envision the next room: he is tickling her and cuddling her and she\u2019s beaming up into his grinning face. She calls for me and, although it was silent, I hear her loud and clear.<\/p>\n
I turn to my right side and lie there for one long moment of letting go\u2014heavy burdens slide down my back, roll onto the deep purple yoga where I recline and then drift out of sight; out of my small yoga space and (temporarily?) out of my life.<\/p>\n
I carefully glide myself up to sit, placing hands in prayer in front of a steadier, dimly pacified heart.<\/p>\n
Gently\u2014gingerly\u2014with soft palms easily pressed together, I trace them up to the center of my forehead and just as silently\u2014and powerfully\u2014as her voice called to me, I humbly answer\u00a0Namaste.<\/em><\/p>\nSomehow within the silence, within the languid movements\u2014and within this stillness and trickling breath ofsavasana\u2014I have worked past fears, and even though they aren\u2019t permanently conquered, I know that this is why I practice\u2014to be reborn<\/a>\u2014and I feel grateful to be back on my mat.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
There\u2019s a fearful\u00a0quiet\u00a0that permeates when you do nothing.<\/h3>\n
The silence leaks into my bones and stills my clumsily racing heart\u2014until I feel my heartbeat quicken, made uneasy by the restless thoughts that still churn beneath my tank-top covered breast. These thoughts aren\u2019t bad or unwanted, just\u2026unsettling.<\/p>\n
I settle into this silence <\/a>anyway; urging the quaking evident within me to rest (although I haven\u2019t moved). Calm and steady, I appear\u2014tired and empty is how I feel.<\/p>\n This house contains my family. Turned into a home by tiny smiles and small waving hands, saying \u201cbye-bye\u201d for no better reason than to hear her own voice. Clinks, clangs and chimes from metal stirring metal in the kitchen, where he works diligently, lovingly and efficiently to make another beautiful dinner for the three of us. And yet I feel alone.<\/p>\n It\u2019s not that I truly feel alone\u2014I know that I\u2019m loved and, more, I know I\u2019m safe and cared for. Still, there\u2019s an aching and a longing within my slowly beating chest that\u00a0pounds and pounds and thumps and thumps<\/em>\u00a0for the desire of something more than I\u2019m getting at the moment.<\/p>\n I decide to begin a new book<\/a>\u2014not reading a new book, writing a new one. It\u2019s time.<\/p>\n I feel how my words go on and on for days, but there\u2019s something missing within them because the most important ones are being ignored.<\/p>\n I ignore these words and my next big work because I\u2019m terrified that I won\u2019t feel as connected to it as the first one that I penned; the one that I wrote for her and for her tiny hands. So procrastination in the form of other books and smaller things containing my ideas has filled this empty space instead of what should have, and for nothing more than insecurity.<\/p>\n I am not an insecure person.<\/p>\n I dream big and laugh even bigger and I love and live life with passion, humor and intensity. There\u2019s something meaningless contained within it, though, because recently I\u2019ve regularly failed to display this hidden well that continually bubbles up inside of me.<\/p>\n I regain awareness of where I am and I shift consciously into something significantly less conscious; returning to the stillness, and to the quiet.<\/p>\n It fills up this space and it makes me feel full. There\u2019s a threat that comes along with fullness\u2014I\u2019m incredibly aware of that also\u2014because sooner or later you know\u2014I\u2019ve learned\u2014that it drains either slowly or suddenly like thepssssssss<\/em>\u00a0of a punctured balloon.<\/p>\n With eyelids unmoving\u2014unblinking\u2014I place my right hand on my heart.<\/p>\n Thump, thump, pound, pound.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n I will the nagging worries of selfishness and lacking away, but they insist on coming back stronger because no matter how hard I have tried, I understand\u2014I\u2019ve learned this as well\u2014that feelings shouldn\u2019t be ignored\u2014mistaken for letting go.<\/p>\n I know what letting go feels like.<\/p>\n It feels like shoulders softening, heart lifting, eyes welling up with tears.<\/em><\/p>\n It feels like fingers slacking, arms hugging, lips turned up at the corners.<\/em><\/p>\n It feels, too, like that irreverent enemy\u2014quiet, fearful stillness\u2014because<\/em>\u00a0letting go\u00a0means that you\u2019ve become empty in order to fill again, and you wait, but not patiently.<\/em><\/p>\n My right hand drifts down my supine body to settle upon a concave belly. I feel the angular protrusions of hip bones and vividly\u2014yet briefly\u2014remember how it felt to hold her\u2014my unborn daughter\u2014there.<\/p>\n What no one told me about having a child is that you don\u2019t change that much\u2014you\u2019re still\u00a0you<\/em>, only now you add\u00a0mother<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0full-time heart holder<\/em>\u00a0to your list of dutiful, hallowed roles.<\/p>\n Squeals and laughter shouts from down the hall. I envision the next room: he is tickling her and cuddling her and she\u2019s beaming up into his grinning face. She calls for me and, although it was silent, I hear her loud and clear.<\/p>\n I turn to my right side and lie there for one long moment of letting go\u2014heavy burdens slide down my back, roll onto the deep purple yoga where I recline and then drift out of sight; out of my small yoga space and (temporarily?) out of my life.<\/p>\n I carefully glide myself up to sit, placing hands in prayer in front of a steadier, dimly pacified heart.<\/p>\n Gently\u2014gingerly\u2014with soft palms easily pressed together, I trace them up to the center of my forehead and just as silently\u2014and powerfully\u2014as her voice called to me, I humbly answer\u00a0Namaste.<\/em><\/p>\n Somehow within the silence, within the languid movements\u2014and within this stillness and trickling breath ofsavasana\u2014I have worked past fears, and even though they aren\u2019t permanently conquered, I know that this is why I practice\u2014to be reborn<\/a>\u2014and I feel grateful to be back on my mat.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n