THE STILLNESS IN THE CHAOS
Your legs ache. You’ve been on your feet all day. You’re in a long line waiting for the ticket machine. They’ve just announced your train is delayed.
You feel the frustration mounting. Impatience, annoyance, aggression.
Suddenly you remember, you are breathing. And it is Now. And you feel your tired feet rather than thinking about them. You give them a little attention, which is love. And you feel the frustration in your chest and belly rather than trying to delete these innocent sensations.
And you feel the weight of your body, the way it gently rests in gravity, supported by the sacred earth. And you feel your belly expand, slowly, rising on the in-breath. Falling on the exhale. And all the sounds around you are now innocent; you are a soft microphone. And the thoughts whirring around in your head, they are just little birds, singing their songs, flapping away. And it’s all ok. It’s all ok. It’s all present. It’s all ok.
And you find gratitude again. You are alive, you have been given a day. A day to live. A day to breathe, and taste human experience, taste the joy and sorrow of it, the bliss and the boredom, the frustration and the rush and the whirr of it, the silliness and the crash and the pull and the chaos of it.
You are already surrendered. And you find yourself on the train home, trusting some unfathomably ancient schedule.
– Jeff Foster