Sometimes there’s nothing else to do but breathe.
I’ve been looking at this page for a long time now, willing the words to flow as they usually do but nothing is happening.
My mind is full and ready to pop. I think it’s so full that nothing has room enough to move. My chest is full of emotions and they are squeezing me so tight that I can barely breathe. There is no escape hatch in there.
The rain is pounding at my window and dry leaves are caught in the rapids of the water that is swirling across the pavers. Everything is being swept out of control and against its will into the puddle that stretches across the yard. I feel as though I am being swept with them.
There is a pounding inside me that makes me want to leap into action and shake everything up so that the sediment settles where it should and everyone can see clearly again.
I sit here rocking in my chair, using up the frustrated energy that has no other release. If my lungs were free I’d be singing my dramas like a full bodied soprano wringing the last drop from her aria.
Life is so fast that we all go off track sometimes and have to find our way home again. Who will float and who will not? What can I say that will make a difference?
Slow down. The words are in there. Breathe. Sometimes there’s nothing else to do but breathe
(originally published at The Calm Space)