Today, I found myself missing the excitement of the old normal. Before, it was easy to get into those moments. A call to be somewhere, to meet someone, to be someplace in particular – just something to just get you out of your routine and the sometimes static uniformity of life. It was always so dynamic to be mobile, and in a sense, getting used to that gives its own unique high.
Today was a bit more quiet than usual. Nothing much out of the ordinary took place, a lot of alone time and just checking off e-mails and finishing the usual tasks. These pauses are good too, and I found I would always crave for these when I’d get too much of the noise of my old life. Now that it’s a lot of calm, I immediately miss the chaos.
It’s funny, isn’t it? The chaos gets us so tired yet so eager and riled up. The quiet is so refreshing and much needed, too, but it gets you a bit restless when there’s too much. I guess the trick is just to be happy wherever you are, and be fully in the moment whatever it is you are doing – whether it’s demanding of your whole being and all your energy, or if it’s performing the most banal of tasks.
There was too much desk time today, so I had to take regular breaks to stretch it out and get a lot of fresh air. I was so happy to have seen a firefly in the garden, flying up by a branch of the tree right outside my room – it was probably the tallest branch yet the light glistened like a star. It was so beautiful. I always felt so lucky to be able to see these magical and exquisite creatures. The fact that they don’t come by often makes it feel like I just got my wish granted – my wish for a little more excitement to take place today.
In seeing the firefly, I suddenly missed my friends – the friends I would usually enjoy their sight with. So much of the Saturday nights were spent in pitch darkness awaiting these magical creatures – or at least as dark as we can possibly make it to be. So much of the nights just being in energies that fit perfectly with my own – these are the ones I miss the most.
November is nearing, and I know the noise that’s about to commence once the holidays are here. It’s helping me revel in the silence, too – knowing that in a very short while, I will miss this calm, and almost boring existence – when nothing much was expected of me, and I’m free to do whatever I want, and enjoy my time in however way I please. This is probably the best way to put it – in as much as the noise is an accommodation of other people’s needs, and my generosity in giving them attention, the silence is my gift to myself – a treat to letting myself just be, just exist, just go with the flow, and revel in the incomparable spectacle and beauty of that, too.