“There is a sense of calmness that you only get when you still your mind,” he sat and listened and absorbed what was just said. He had felt that calmness in every moment of any day that past summer. He felt the calmness on the hot days and the warm nights, the calmness in the hot wind that blows in the afternoon, and now the calmness in the crisp of the night, when the heat of the summer turns to the warmth of cool fall nights – not warmth in temperature, but a warmth of the heart when it feels the embracing change of nature and the excitement of seasonal rebirth.
And he felt the calmness in his heart toward people, things, and all those lines of “to dos” on a checklist in his mind. The list that used to flap against the walls of his brain in the middle of the night and wake him, the list that got in his way when the beauty of life was present, blocking his sight and covering his ears, muting the experience, or depriving him of one at all. He had a new prescription on life now. He took note of the colors, movements, shadows of light, and the pauses between the words. They all made for a symphony of the senses, and they were present everywhere, and anytime. “They always have been. They always will be,” said a voice from the close distance. And he looked inside and felt all that he had missed, and opened his eyes and saw all that was.