Is this comfort I have entered, or a type of peace?
I’ve reached a stage of no major panic or anxiety, not even striving or yearning; that old incessant need to be elsewhere, coupled with that gloom suspended over the bed in the mornings as though the end has arrived. Though it’s not always roses and leaps of joy to get up, it’s still a reduction of need and an abundance of stillness.
It doesn’t feel like not trying, it feels like a slow motion fall-back into a bed of soft feathery pillows for a snooze.
Stable, rested, calm. A little softer round the edges both physically and mentally, a little glint of grey sparkling amongst chocolate strands, like a well-earned crown. A lot more observant and accepting of myself.
I don’t want to be too placid, too soft to the point of jelly; trembling with no foundation, but more like a smooth, delicate peach hanging from a sturdy tree.
Life is change, moments come and go and ebb and flow. This is my pause for effect.
More movement will come, but it will be a balance of soft surrender and hard action entwined and combined; every moment as organic as it should be.