Anxiety is probably one of the most unpleasant of human emotions. Like a marauding army it lays waste to your mind and body, almost unstoppable in its advance and absolutely merciless. From the moment it takes root, it grows and grows and just like a virus it is contagious. I consider it my greatest and oldest enemy and I loathe it accordingly. I would honestly rather be depressed than anxious, though the two are never far apart. Most people only have to deal with it periodically, such as when facing deadlines at work, or going on stage. For an Aspie, Anxiety seems to be constant. It circles them like a vulture, watching and waiting for a moment of weakness. The slightest doubt or loss of concentration and it pounces. Beating it back at this stage requires a great deal of effort and even when bested, it simply lurks in the shadows, biding its time.
Moments of calm are as rare to me as they are prized. Imagine being in a large room filled with people talking loudly; the sound builds and builds until you fear that your eardrums will blow. Then, suddenly, there is silence. The sense of exhausted relief that you feel is what I experience when I feel calm. Often it is entirely unexpected, sometimes it is the result of intense effort. I know that the anxiety will be back, but I am determined to enjoy it regardless. The feeling frequently brings back memories of better times, though one in particular stands out.
All I can hear are my own footsteps reverberating up through my body and emerging inside my ear as gentle thuds. There are other sounds, but in this moment in time I am only aware of my footsteps. I can feel the ground below my feet; feel the coolness of the compressed limestone. The contrast of the mild yet nurturing heat of the spring sun upon the nape of my neck is profound. The fresh green leaves fluttering gently in the slight breeze blur into the background as I walk on. Finally I come to the place that I have been seeking, my spot. The comfort that it brings envelops me like a warm duvet in winter time. Cold hard path becomes soft springy moss. I gently ease my head down onto this natural carpet and close my eyes for a second. Finally I am aware of the sounds of the woodland. Birds tweet, lambs call and the stream gurgles lazily. A short distance away a woodpecker starts to hammer, the sound echoing around the trees so that is softer and more soothing. The sun too seems softer. I open my eyes and gaze up into the ceiling provided by the ancient beech tree. Sunlight flickers through the canopy, making the green foliage sparkle with golden fire. I breathe deeply, savouring the earthy smell of the moss. I no longer feel any pain or anxiety. The weight of the world dissipates with each breath. For that moment, I just am.
When I meditate, I often try revisiting this particular moment in my mind. Moments of calm such as these help me to cope with the present; they provide not only peace, but also hope. Things can get better, I can feel like that again if I just endure.
No comments:
Post a Comment