I listen. Its like in the book Moby Dick. The harpooner is the one who is listening. While all the others are going crazy getting the ship in the exact right place, the harpooner is still, waiting for the perfect shot.
It is sometimes listening to words but most of the time not, just attending to a presence that is sometimes felt and sometimes not. But I can enter into the calm of this room while I am writing or enter into the stillness of the outdoors especially when there is no sound or wind in the trees or if one of the trees is still.
Sometimes when it is felt I get a real break from all the questions, worries and concerns, what is wrong with me? Does she like me or think I am a moron? When I am there I know who I belong to and who belongs to me, who I possess and who possesses me. It is the sense of someone’s presence but not another person’s presence I have felt before, like the presence of an alien or something. Words for it are abiding, listening, contemplation, peace, joy, love, wonderful. There may be a million words for it and sometimes there aren’t any words for it. I think the best words are like: beautiful, adorable, the object of my deepest and strongest desire, love language and intimacy are the best words because I am with my lover and he is with me although I can feel my intensity more than his, his seems more settled or something, ever subtle but real none the less.
Trouble and distress make it hard to listen. I wish that were not the case but it is. It is hard to settle down in trouble and fear, but it always comes back. And even in the trouble and the fear the sun is shining behind the bleak dark clouds. If anything I am able to endure it and sometimes the fears are not realized. There is always stillness after the storm.