“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas, language, even the phrase each other doesn’t make any sense.   ~Rumi

There is an almost constant din in my head. I find it hard to slow the spinning and be still, silent. I am thinking, worrying, dithering, plotting, reviewing, nigh on ceaslessly. Meditation leaves me feeling more anxious, mostly because I cannot seem to locate the peaceful place to simply be and breathe. It is a valuable pursuit, the attempt, but I rarely access that particular quiet.

I like to communicate, and I fear being misunderstood. It is perhaps one of my less endearing traits, this constant need to explain myself. I feel it, even with regard to things that don’t need much explanation. I find it difficult, in company, to let silence occur, to stretch.


So I am following the noise, back to it’s source. I want to ensure I realize I hear me, so that the clamor can subside, once I acknowledge whatever it is trying to tell me. Perhaps the work of listening and gently letting the message echo away will help me get closer to the inner quiet.