What if most of our lived experience was empty space?
What if, in between the flashes and floods, the surges and sparks, of euphoria, of heartbreak, of rage, of terror, and of everything connecting those extremes, there was only stillness?
What if we reserved that space to bring ourselves back home? Not to do, or to fix, or to change anything. Not to run, to distract, to smother, to cower, to control those waves of feeling that show up as physiological convulsions and mental fixations.
What if we nursed the crying child that lives within us to sleep instead of ignoring them, yelling at them, beating them. What if we saw our pain clearly enough to be still and heal instead of self-destructing?
What if I decided not to run from this feeling, not to cower before this thought, not to try to control the surge that is sweeping through my body. What if a part of me stood tall and resolved to find stillness in the eye of the storm?
That part of me stands in the fire. I stand in the fire. We stand imperturbable, equanimous, safe and protected in this fire. The flames are receding already, now that we have stopped fueling it with flight, fight, and freeze.
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