Rhythm. The sound of the heart beating life through the body.
Rushing. The blood pushes through the veins and vessels.
Reaction. The body functions as it is meant to.
Silence. The moments in which the inner workings of the body are the most pronounced; every nuance can be felt at a magnitude that is otherwise impossible to detect. The silence speaks in this way; it speaks as the heart pumps, as the blood rushes, and as the organs and systems function without strain. This is peace. These are moments when the soul speaks to the body; tells it truths that otherwise are unable to be heard. Perfect stillness allows for all encompassing realization and acceptance. There are things to be heard, if only one finds the right moment to listen.
I haven’t known peace for years. No, I was used to the utter turmoil that every moment had the potential to become. Every molecule in my body was set afire, threatened to be burned asunder by the disrupting battles that seemed to take place without pause. Negative sensory overload does not bide with peace or understanding. It only knows upheaval and chaos.
What happens when the moment for peace finally does come? What is to follow?
A quiet unlike I have ever known. The opportunity to just be; to exist without any force pulling in any one direction. The body performs, the soul is free, the mind is calm and uncluttered. The energy is free to move through clear space, passing smoothly from his skin to mine.
I have come to know that people say many things; things they mean in all earnest but can never deliver on, things they say to be soothing or reassuring but without any truth behind them, and things that were meant in the moment but were forgotten shortly thereafter. They say many things, but I have learned to allow intuition to guide me based on what they do; how they perform, what their energy says to me, what their eyes are revealing, and how the silence between us feels.
Words are powerful; but there is nothing more honest than the moments of quiet discovery where silence says what words cannot. And I listen with my whole body in these moments. They tell me everything I need to know.
It is one thing to accept another person’s flaws or past. Of course these things are inevitable and are often the stones upon which our lives have been built, brick by brick, turning us into the individuals we are and are trying to become. In that way, they are important to be acknowledged.
But, it is another thing entirely when they are acknowledged, and yet are not given the weight of importance that they previously had been given. When they are reduced to merely the stones, rather than the foundation, there is freedom. When scars become just another feature of the skin, when true and terrible stories become memories without power, when there is congruent honesty in both words and movements, so then is there the great and insurmountable presence of peace between us. It comes without ceremony or announcement of its arrival; it comes merely as a gentle sigh, a small alignment of two bodies, a space in which there are no further needs or desires than to just be free to passively celebrate the equilibrium of the moment.