Stillness of the mind

July 8, 2018 Geetha B Energy, Love, Mind, Short stories, Stillness, Stories, Story, Uncategorized Acceptance, Angels, Anxiety, Energy, Fear, love, Meditation, mind, Short stories, Stillness, Stories, Story, Thoughts

Stillness of the mind

8 July 2018

Panic seized her again at the thought of all she had to do. It seemed like a list of insurmountable tasks and she was wondering which to start with. She felt discouraged at the thought that not only she would have to find a way to accomplish all those tasks but she would also have to pay for the persons rendering the various services she needed for the accomplishment of some of the tasks. It would cost a lot of money ; money that she was not earning for now. She felt like crying but the tears did not come. Instead she felt a wave of weariness overcome her. Fortunately or unfortunately the weariness did not last and panic struck again.

She became restless and started biting her nails. She checked herself immediately as she did not want to end up like some people did with very small chewed-up nails, a testimonial of their anxiety. The thoughts raced through her head again and she felt desperate. She cried out to her guardian angels for help but was met with only silence. A silence that seemed deafening in comparison to her cries. She wondered how things had come to this point. There had to be an explanation for all that was happening. Things never happened without a reason and she was sure that there must be some reason for this chain of events.

Despite her reasoning she was starting to get desperate again and hated the feeling of helplessness that accompanied the flurry of her thoughts. She had not been able to meditate that morning as her mind had been too busy and pervading, not allowing her to focus on the meditation. She wondered if the lack of meditation was not worsening things. When she meditated things always seemed to be alight with fresh perspectives but today all her thoughts seemed to be cloaked with a dull tone of grey.

She suddenly realised that she was getting trapped by the age-old trap of fear. She was allowing herself to be sucked into the destructive energy of fear instead of maintaining herself within the powerful energy of love. She realised that it was her own mind that was allowing this, focusing on all the negative outcomes instead of focusing on the positive ones. Her mind kept trying to convince her that the positive outcomes were few while the negative outcomes were many and more likely.

She slowly tried to silence her mind that kept chattering away its thoughts into her head, attempting to make her feel submerged by helplessness again. She focused on her breathing and willed the thoughts away. She would deal with each task as and when it came up in the best way possible. Slowly she could feel the thoughts ebbing away as her mind gave in to the rhythm of her breathing. In a few minutes she was thoughtless and started focusing on the middle of her crown chakra.

She could feel the silence growing within but it was a pleasant silence now. She breathed in and out very calmly. Slowly but surely she could feel herself being filled with a sense of peace and joy. Her mind was silent and she could see a light growing at the tip of her crown chakra where her intent was focused. She played with the light, watching it grow until it filled all her head and then imagined it travelling downwards towards her toes before going up again and filling her whole body. She was light, she was peace, she was acceptance. She was pure thoughtlessness and silence. It had all begun with the stillness of the mind.

Stillness of the mind – Abel Korzeniowski

The chalk on the floor

July 6, 2018 Geetha B Short stories, Stories, Story, Uncategorized Behaviour, Chalk, OCD, Roaches, Short stories, Stories, Story

The chalk on the floor

5 July 2018

chalk pinterest com — Courtesy pinterest.com

She readjusted the dish-stand. It still looked crooked. Nothing seemed to be straight in anything that was going on around her she thought. Her shoulders hunched slightly in defeat. She turned the dish-stand around lengthwise against the wall and it finally seemed to fit straight. At least one thing that would be in order she thought. She laughed to herself at the idea that her OCD behaviour seemed to be returning. This was definitely not the place to have those compulsions she thought to herself. She shrugged off the nagging impulse to set straight the jars that were drying next to the sink.

On the floor a cockroach was running towards shelter under the sink. She gritted her teeth and tried to swat it with the broom but it was too fast for her. She re-positioned the broom but it had already disappeared under the sink. She did not feel like going to search for it. The mere idea of pursuing the insect under the sink nauseated her. She looked for the chalk she had bought earlier and that was said to keep away ants and roaches. Slowly but surely, she began drawing straight lines all across the floor, around the sink, the granite topped cavities that acted as makeshift cupboards and the small wooden cupboards.

After she had finished drawing the lines she stood up and gazed at them. Some seemed slightly crooked and she bent down to draw straighter lines after she had rubbed away those that seemed crooked. She repeated the experience when she felt the result was unsatisfactory. After a while she was far more pleased with the result of her drawings. She stood up and gazed at the drawings from above. They were indeed very straight now with the intersections giving forth clean right angles.

From the corner of her eye she could see one of the huge ants that had been there earlier run towards the cupboard and then stop before the line in front of it. She was extremely pleased to have bought the chalk. It seemed like her ticket to sanity in this insane circle of huge ants and roaches that had been taking turns in attacking her stock of groceries. She looked at the lines again beaming at the idea that they would finally protect the groceries. Under the tube light it seemed to her that the chalk on the floor beamed back at her.

Opa Tsupa – Les deux Guitares