In the first several months (years?) after my marriage of 19 years came apart, every day was an emotional journey. It was all I could do to show up at work and try to make decisions, using a fraction of my mental capacity. I cried every day.
As time passed, I healed and I noticed a new inner state emerging. I would sporadically notice a sense of quiet and calm. This feeling would arise in moments when wasn't upset nor was I overjoyed, I was just inwardly still and peaceful. It felt like "The Void".
At first, I found this to be slightly alarming. Had I descended into some inner state that was even worse than heartbreak? Was I simply numb? I remember describing this inner state to a friend, and wondering about it. Was something wrong with me? Is it OK to just be "quiet" inside and not have any identifiable emotion?
Were it not for my decades of daily practice of meditation, yoga, journaling and introspection, I might not have even noticed the subtle nature of this fleeting state. It could easily get steam-rollered by the more intense and dramatic emotions of life.
This morning, as I sit down to write to you, I'm appreciating this quietness, this "Void", because it's here with me, today. It feels like the feeling that happens before the feeling. After years of tracking this, I now think it's actually the default resting place for my mind and heart. From this subtly quiet place, I notice how much my thoughts and internal stories influence how I feel. From here, I can go into gratitude, or contentment, bliss or sadness and grief, probably even anger, depending on what thoughts come into my mind. It's like the blank slate of emotion - receptive and open.
As I sat this morning and breathed into this quiet, resting place for my heart, I thought I would take this time to describe it to you, and to share it with you.
Maybe you find this place in yourself, too?
It's not intense, it's not sexy and I can't tell you exactly how to get there. But now that I'm no longer worried that a quiet heart is a numb heart, I'm realizing that I like this place. I like feeling inwardly calm. It's not boring. It feels like looking at the glassy water of a lake in the morning, mist rising on the air currents of possibilities. I think it may be a state of being that's worth cultivating and even celebrating.
Moreover, I think sometimes this state of inner stillness is available to us, but it feels too scary, and so we let ourselves feel some stronger emotion instead. What would happen if the stillness were invited to stay?
