Seamless grayness covers the sky. One wasp, with his large thorax and long legs, hovers in the stillness as I exhale silver smoke out the door. He looks at me, and I look at him. We regard each other with nothing more than beings in the same space and continue on our respective paths.
Silence. Not the pleasant silence after spending two hours in the casino with the digital bells and whistles, and card players cheering for their big win. The kind of silence which is unsettling. Engines and brakes on the wet road are muffled at the stop sign. Acceleration at the crossroads are flat and lifeless. Crickets rub their legs together as if they were trying to warm up and vanish into the silent gray day.
The silence creeps into the house over the Celtic music on Pandora. You can hear it settle around the house and into my mind. Where for once, it is silent. The thoughts are put to bed, wrapped in newspaper and filed in boxes, tucked within the deep gray matter crevices that are responsible for my breath.
I guess that is what being mindful is all about. I am supposed to find the solace that everyone promises. I am supposed to find the hidden beauty in the silent gray but nothing is there. And maybe I missed the whole point of mindfulness. I lost the directions in websites and ebooks that were free, because everyone needs a little self improvement now and then.
I don't know if I enjoy it or not; I am thinking about returning to the real world. But in a way, I don't want to. I don't want to read about destruction and hurricanes, Donald Trump and rampaging hate. Here on this silent gray September day, I am here between the light and dark, between silence and cacophony.
The world can wait until tomorrow.
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