Yesterday’s electrical brainstorm calls for a moment of reverent nothingness for recovery.

In a nutshell . . .

When I have had a flood of frenzied and frazzling thoughts, it’s a benison, a grace, to take a deep breath right down to my ankle-bones and think blessed nothingness for a goodly while. Excess must needs be remedied with open space, with quietude, with letting go. Namaste. Sometimes the noise and frantic activity go on for long bouts and the need for respite and renewal borders on desperation. Other times, I’ll get that blast of craziness out of the way fairly quickly but it still leaves me limp and needing repair, and then a simple meditative breather will suffice for regaining equilibrium–until the next hyperactive think-spasm occurs. I’m certainly fortunate not to battle the extremes of high-and-low fought by the bipolar and the super-passionate alike (though not in like manner, of course), being able for the most part to readjust the balance of my world with a mere pause to refocus and salvage my scattered composure.

Happily, it doesn’t generally require a complicated or expensive methodology, this regrouping need of mine. Sometimes, as today, a time spent quietly doing simple household chores begins the winding-down process. Always, a calming glance or touch from my partner does much to further the soothing. Mostly, I’m just learning the gradual bit of wisdom that comes to us all with age, if we’re lucky: let go. Stop pushing, stop racing, deliberately quiet the mind by removing distractions (or myself from them), and let the sweet silence of the senses envelop me.

From that small acorn will my great shading oak tree of stability and peace grow.