I seem to keep coming back to writing about … the lack of noise, or rather, the inadvertent joys that can be found in stillness and a lack of noise.
Right now, in my immediate surroundings, the only thing I can hear is the cyclic whirl of the washing machine, the springy sound of typing on my new keyboard and my very own thoughts. Birds can be heard singing an upbeat background track in the distance. I am really falling in love with the early mornings.
It’s like this:
When you wake up to darkness, but a darkness with a soft, subtle glow almost to suggest the beginnings of Hope, and you realise Dawn must be approaching. The sunrise is just around the corner, and will likely arrive within the hour. You’re chuffed with yourself that you – once a crusader of nightowlmanship, have managed to wake up well ahead of time, seemingly ahead of ‘everyone else in the world’ because everything is just that still, to greet the day with hope and mental preparation of whatever little or big surprises the universe has to offer for the day.
You flick on the lamp on your bedside table to bathe your bedroom- your prized chambers that comfortably without judgement houses all your secret fantasies, debilitating fears and hopeful dreams – with a gentle yellow glow, before swinging your bare legs off the side of the bed. You’ve taken to sleeping naked over the past two weeks, knowing full well there is absolutely zero chance of unsolicited come-ons, of hurting someone, or the consistent build up of anxieties of what is being said or unsaid between the two of you. Your tower is protected, your body fully your own and getting to know her properly at your very own pace, without hurry, shame or fear of judgement, is something that has been long overdue. It is of no reflection of past company, only a reflection of the boundaries that were never identified in oneself and thus never communicated from the get-go. My bedroom is my safe haven, my place to recuperate, and should be absolutely void for fear, hurt or anxiety. There are many other spaces for those emotions and conversations.
With your feet now firmly planted on the hardwood floor, you stand up and stroll over to your full-length mirror by your wardrobe.
“Good morning,” you say to the woman looking back at you.
“Good morning,” she mirrors.
You watch her lift up her hand to touch your stomach, pausing there to trace the outlines of your muscles, before slowly moving her hand across to your side, to your waist and down to your hip. You can feel each crease of muscle of hers – of yours, along with her warm skin, her lovely imperfections, her small yet distinctive hips.
“Pretty,” she whispers, smiling back at you. “We shan’t indulge too much this morning; there is much to explore tomorrow as well, and the following day, and the one after. I’ll be here with you, to love you the way I do today, don’t you worry.”
Content and reassured, you take leave of the bedroom, and begin the preparations of the day. You wash your face, brush your teeth, make coffee and put in a couple of slices of bread into the toaster, all the while still basking in your newfound sense of nakedity.
You find that you are open to possibilities, you’re inspired to take risks, you’re ready to take on challenges.
You feel so much stronger.
What better way to start the day?