It’s always still at 11:30pm in my home. Even the crickets and frogs are silently nested away in slumber. I am usually asleep with the rest of them. Tonight it appears I have turned a futile battle with my brain. It refuses to be silenced and my body has surrendered to its relentless charm. Laying here in my bed I am left with two sounds to help beckon my thoughts, they mingle together hypnotizing me into submission.
My husband has a very inspiring breath. Its movement is like a wave coming ashore, soft and muffled, long and leading. Silly as I am, I try breathing with him hoping to steel a little part of his peace. Disappointment is my reward, I am left breathless gasping for air.
Next to my husbands breath playing backup percussion is an old clock that belonged to my grandmother. The pendulum produces a tick with each swing, expanding its life special purpose to a metronome. It’s a clock that chooses to work now and then when it feels the liking. As of this moment it is, and I am half tempted to remove its power source. If not for the sentimental memories of my grandmother, its ticking days would have long been over. Tonight it and my husband come together in a weird nautical soliloquy, I am left sleepless to ponder the rhythm of my life and the pace at which it seems to move.
Thoughts race in and out of my mind in a long drawn out rhythm that appears to be keeping pace with my new backup band. I realize how quickly the time seems to pass. even now the time is coming up on 12:00 AM. I just started writing and the hour is up. Now when I aline my thoughts with my husbands breath I feel a strong piece that tells me “Yes my girl, everything is going to be alright.” Every now and then I realize that the backdrop tick is hitting about six times faster than my husbands breath and it sends my mind racing trying to keep up. Just internally recognizing this has sparked a level of anxiety I am not comfortable with. I lay here breathless trying to sync with my husband, wishing to clear my mind of the relentless hounding of that darn tick. It steels my peace, and keeps my mind running.
How real is this my friend? Not just now as I lay hear in bed loving my husband, but as I walk through my whole life. Metronomes offer no peace. They are a constant rushing stream, hell bent on getting from one place to the next, not slowing down to see the magical scenery along the way. Living as if the tick where the only real purpose in life. I recognize that it often cannot be prevented, but I find that my most inspired moments are when I am able to forget about that metronome propelling me into every passing moment, and focus on the breath. It glides by like a gentle river, free from dictation. When I live in these moments the spin of the earth slows, memories feel magical, and peace rests in my soul. If I could capture it I would put it in a bottle and label it joy. As of yet it cannot be contained, only intentionally sought after. I am thankful for my husband’s breath, few things bring me closer to catching it.
My Life Song Free From The Metronome
Originally published By Samantha YeVohn Brown in June of 2017.