The taste of the time we live in becomes more prominent now. There is an urgency to simply be – not urgency in a sense of being in a hurry, the way we often go through life: unaware, desensitized, uninvolved, having our minds in overdrive, and occasionally swallowing the residual bitter aftertaste of not living. Instead, the urgency of this time holds the sense that there is no reason any longer to procrastinate facing ourselves.
Now, when we check for shortness of breath, we become aware, maybe for the first time, of our way of breathing. We also allow nature to take a breather from us, and, in gratitude, it gives us generously more fresh inhales. We are forced to cook our meals at home, spend time together as a family, and look each other in the eye. Suddenly, there is nothing certain other than this moment. We don’t know what tomorrow holds for us. We actually never did. In its core, this jolting revelation is banal and prosaic. Yet, it took a pandemic to strip it from our human arrogance and show us how poor fortune tellers we are.
After just a week of sheltering in place, I start to wonder: How much time of my day is wasted by unnecessary worries about the future? How much time literally passes by me when I am stuck in traffic every day?
How much time of my life is spent in imaginary inner dialogues with invisible people whom I am trying to convince of my unappreciated worth? Did I ever succeed in proving myself to them? Unlikely! They were never able to hear my inner conversation, and, even if they did, they probably wouldn’t care. But I kept arguing in my busy mind, instead of looking for my center to bring me together as I am.
Where is this elusive center that we are searching for all our lives? It starts to form more clearly now, when there is less destruction to make it murkier. It gets more prominent when we shelter in place and social distancing becomes a norm. Our internal clocks have a segment called “now” – have you noticed? The time flows only now, in the very moment, in the very center. There is no movement outside or after, just within, present in here, keeping it all together.
Walking in nature a few times a week while sheltering in place centers me. I always enjoyed that sense-of-being part of this vastness, but now this feeling of Nature and I being one seems more profound and real. Not becoming one but being one. Because we were never separated, I start to understand. The mind loves those games of separation; it enjoys, in some pervasive way, to distinguish itself, rather than surrender to the oneness. There is beauty, there is kindness, there is vulnerability, and there is wonder in each increment of time. There is this simple joy when the moment goes through us, and then we see it dissipating without regret because we have really lived in it. Even if it wasn’t a pleasant one, it makes room for a new experience, which vibrates with anticipation, filled with quiet hope. It’s the vibration of being alive, of being present, of being mindful. It’s the vibration of being in the center.
Centering means to notice the life blooming from within. When we start to pay attention, we see that it blooms without as well. And then, tiny as we are – somewhat invisible, almost insignificant, perfectly ordinary in the great vastness, yet present, quintessential, and vital, in the center of those gorgeous blooms – we remember how to simply be.
We feel compressed sheltering in place…unless we choose to shelter within. There, an unapologetic openness bursts out from inside and merges with the ether’s abundance. There is an earthy sense of belonging to this vastness. Sheltering within feels surprisingly simple…cozy and inviting. It feels familiar. We are sheltering at home.
This article was originally published on Nelly’s blog, Sheltering Within.
