When your mind is muddy water.

Sometimes the best way to fix things is to leave them alone.

It took me weeks to write this piece because I kept trying to mould it into something it wasn’t meant to be. I finally allowed these words to exist in their raw form. Sometimes, we need the same thing: to show up in our raw form.

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I’m curled up in bed in the fetal position, my comforter tucked snugly under my chin. It’s 11 a.m., and sunlight pierces my eyes through the blinds, demanding I get up.

I brood over the things I need to do, but can’t—long to do, but won’t. My heart feels both barren and overgrown. How is it that my mind can be frenetic and catatonic at the same time? I’m mystified, curious about these contradictions presenting themselves to me.

Despite my best efforts to wiggle my toes and fingers, trying to jolt my body into action, I remain motionless under the sheets. Uselessness weighs heavy on me today. I lie there, striving to bridge the gap between my restless mind and dormant body. I resort to expanding the shape of my breath, hoping it will revive me.

Just for today, I want to let the pressure of trying to make my life go this way or that way fizzle out of me like air from a tire.

I want to trust that everything is as it is for a reason—that something bigger than me wants it this way. 

How did I convince myself it’s all up to me—to ease every burden, right every wrong, fill every gaping hole? When tending to a fragmented world becomes too much, I remind myself that a sickly body and fragile mind are useful to no one.

Maybe, even from this cushiony lair of mine, I can still be a pillar of hope and strength. Maybe a mindful presence alone is a blazing fire in the midst of the insufferable ice storm that reality can sometimes be; a dynamite stick in the path of life’s obstacles.

By presence, I mean the undeniable vibration of tranquillity that radiates from our core—an unwavering trust in all that is. A presence so palpable it’s felt by those around us, circulating into their ecosystems and connecting us all. The kind that makes people look up from their choice of distraction to lock eyes with yours. I want to emit that vibration every day.

Would it be enough, I wonder, when my body is incapable of offering more?

Some days—when I’m sober to how numbered they are—this presence flows easily. I see clearly that kindness is the only thing that matters in this fleeting stretch we call life. I sense what waits on the other side of this existence as surely as I know spring follows winter. On those days, it’s easier to nestle into Beingness. Holiness. Divinity.

But on other days it’s not so easy. I find myself swallowed whole by grief and yearnings, with a mind misplaced in egoic narratives and petty storylines. These are the days I need to work harder to sweep away the smog that settles and blocks light from shining through, so I don’t get pinned under a thick, dark atmosphere of despair.

Today’s a day like that.

I reflect on my younger years—how I was always trying to persuade others to do as I did. Believe as I did. As the decades flew by, I discovered the futility of forcing changes in people. A voiceless wisdom emerged, asking me to step back and leave matters, and people, alone. Not out of callousness; rather, out of the awareness that everything will unfurl out of its darkness in its own time, of its own accord. It’s here the way it is—let it all show up as it is.

Can I offer myself the same permission? To exist here, in this moment, as I am, without trying to change anything?

“Muddy water is best cleared by leaving it alone.”

Alan Watts’ words echo in my mind, scattering the shadows that previously loomed. I welcome this newfound mental stillness with open arms, bowing to the gratitude brewing in my heart.

Ahh, that’s it. I’m muddy water today. All I need to do is sit still and watch it settle until all that remains is clarity. How perfect is that? A blessed reminder that slowing down is speeding up.

Hang in there. You will shine when you’re ready to.✨🫶🏼