I need to calm down, reef my sail, meditate. Cross-legged in the saloon with a cushion in the small of my back, I sink behind my tumbling thoughts, behind my compulsive activity, behind the entrancing glamour of living.
I follow my breath slowly down into a still clear well of knowing, deep within. I bare myself to a love that is waiting, a fullness beyond all imagining. I embrace a quality of intelligence I can barely withstand.
All things are as they should be in this most perfect of worlds. The whole of life is living me. I don’t need to hold on. What I have is worth much more. When I resurface, I’m clear and calm again.
As we do every day, Emily and I set off for town to walk the streets, up and down and up and down, filling in time before a movie. Somewhere I’m scared that, if I stop, I will fall into a hollow dreadful emptiness that isn’t the waiting room of love. I will fall into a lonely, cold hole of nothing.
Lugging bags of shopping, legs tired, back aching, I drop into a comfy seat next to Emily in the picture theatre. The bright Technicolor screen takes over our minds and we disappear into other people’s exciting lives.
An excerpt from book 1 of Dyana’s Anchors in an Open Sea trilogy: The Yoga of Sailing.
