On Clarity

I have been thinking a lot lately about a clear mind. I’m hitting an age, a time in life, where I am noticing more and more if and when my mind is clear. Sometimes I long for childlike simplicity and wonder. And sometimes I wonder if I ever had. And I don’t know if that really matters because I’m also at that point in life where I am looking forward, and not back. As I step steadily in that direction, I am meditating lately on the question of, what is clarity? 

Is it being confident that you’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing? Is it being so at peace within yourself that your mind is empty and quiet? Is it motivation? Is it confidence? Is it delusion? Is it hope? Is it solitude? Is it connection? Is it anywhere near attainable? Is it something you feel for a brief moment in the morning after your first cup of coffee but before your second, when your brain is working but not whirring? Is it comfort? Is it difficulty? Is it anything more than fleeting? Is it wholeness? Is it brokenness? Is it real? Can I have it? Can I taste it? Can I even begin to think it might exist? Is it running hard for a long time so that my muscles are tired from being used the way they’re meant to be? Is it putting my body in the cold water? My breath immediately shallow for a few quick moments before I close my eyes, drawing the cold air down into my abdomen and feeling the brief fear that strikes at my wrists and ankles and toes as I take a second and a third grounding inhale, letting the fire of my belly radiate warmth into my limbs, submerging my neck, my chin, allowing my eyes to settle on the liquid horizon line as I continue to breathe, as my heart rate slows and then stabilizes, as my mind fires rapidly before finding a stillness within my physical form, within my singular existence. It’s doing this sometimes for 20 seconds, sometimes for 4 minutes. It’s being so very alone. It’s being with my people. It’s stepping out of the water and calmly, but quickly drying my skin and wrapping myself in soft, warm, dry cozies. It’s practicing showing up for myself every. dang. day. It’s slipping up and losing my grip. It’s being kind to myself and welcoming my intention back in. It’s a lifelong pursuit. It’s a practice. And I’m here for it.