The settling. The re-settling, letting nerves and bones and skin fall back into place. The watching. Resisting the urge to punish or force unnatural shapes at uncommon speed. It’s not waiting, this return to center, but to mistake it for waiting is easy. And the desire for easy is palpable. Pique energy and vigilant senses eventually yearn for a controlled fall. It’s physics, or something. But, keyword “controlled.” Paying attention to where thoughts, once pinballing between ears, land, to the particular weight and density of the heart whose beat has finally showed signs of slowing, to the nerve endings tickling the bottoms of feet with aftershock.
Turning inward here can feel selfish. Indulgent. Like weakness. And sure, prolonged self-pity is as destructive as the pique itself. But gently guiding each part into its original, or perhaps slightly improved, place — assisting emotional gravity — is the best way to be sure nothing breaks in the process. The body is capable of holding a tremendous amount of tension, and the distance of the fall, how long it will take, is never self-evident. But it is a fall, during which the magnitude of the energy spent can be seen fully. Spent on what? Isn’t it tiring, this solo dance between tension and release? Does it make any difference, at all? Unclear. Of course. Perhaps not. Answering these questions with honesty, but not shame, so that the next time the body begins to rise, to forget itself — which it will — it may be better prepared. Mind as physicist: observing, calculating, hypothesizing. The goal is not to fix; some rules are immovable. The goal is to understand, and there is perhaps no better time to understand than in the midst of a controlled fall, when taking care is not just a marketing strategy, but an opportunity to observe the laws of nature.
Proceed with care. I am proceeding with care.