The Pace of Trust

Marlais counted five breaths, feeling each inhale deeper in the space of her torso than the one before. Her eyes were closed, but she squeezed them slightly more tightly and breathed one last time for good measure. This was the first yoga flow she'd done by herself in a while. She'd felt she had been getting too used to the sound of her yoga teacher's voice in her head connected with her own body's movements. After the month she'd gone through, all she wanted to do was be in her body again, connected with a voice in her head that sounded like her own.

Her watch chimed softly in the other room, indicating that it was probably 9am. Some part of Marlais was already up, in the shower, and getting ready for the day ahead. But in reality, she still sat there on her yoga mat, staring through the thin linen curtains out the window at the resonance of the sun's rays on the building next to hers. Instinctively, she inhaled deeply once more. There was something just so soothing about the way the sun kissed everything around it. It made her smile and she noticed she was holding herself, her hands gently clutching her arms on either side of her body. She'd apparently mentally floated off somewhere, so in tune with the present moment. This was rare. Marlais was typically a person with a natural sense of urgency; she didn’t need a reason or a cue – she was always ready to go. Her supervisors at her job loved it when they weren't intimidated. Her colleagues rolled their eyes when she raised her hand in meetings with new ideas and extensive plans to support those ideas. Her family was used to her readiness, her alertness.

And so was she.

Typically.

Lately, though, Marlais had been feeling differently. Or, rather, she'd been experiencing time differently. At this point, she'd rolled her yoga mat into a cylinder and set it to the side of her bed, enjoying the way the soft turquoise of the mat bled into the seafoam green of her bedcover. She entered the bathroom and turned on the shower, allowing the steam to fill the small space while she stripped off the slightly-damp clothes she'd worn overnight and into her yoga practice. The day felt like it hadn't yet started. And though the sun was up and the time on the clock kept moving, Marlais was met with a unique sense of peace that morning as she bathed herself within the layers of fog created by the hot water pouring over her skin.

There was really only one thing she wanted to do that day, which was strange to her. She usually had a list of to-dos and want-to-trys ready to be checked off somewhere in a notebook, or in the back of her head. But today was different. She simply wanted to sit outside and watch as the sun danced across the sky to somewhere behind where she couldn't see, finally saying goodnight to her part of the world. Even as she thought about this, she smirked. It was completely fantastical compared to what her friends were getting up to that Saturday. But still, when Marlais imagined a day on her balcony, the spontaneous sounds of kids playing and small dogs barking in serendipity with the seagulls’ squawks as her acoustic background, she found pleasure tickling near-forgotten parts of her body.

Dressed in a worn-in pair of leggings and an oversized sweater, she was ready for her day in the sun. When she walked into the kitchen, the latest book she was reading caught her eye first, hanging halfway off the table. She decided she'd continue that story today. It had been about a week since Marlais sat down to engage with any type of text that wasn't digitally printed and she could tell some part of her was just itching for a deep dive into a world so separate from hers. This was the paradox of her desires: be so in the moment but escape to another reality at the same time. She stood in front of the fridge, imagining what she might eat for breakfast; she wanted everything to flow that day. All her desires would be met, no overthinking, she decided. And what she wanted for breakfast was an omelet, toast, and coffee. She'd always felt she made a simple breakfast better than most restaurants, but most days, she only had time for yogurt and fruit or a coffee and croissant on the way to the office. Today was different, though, so she brought out the eggs, spinach, tomatoes and zucchini.

"I don't have coffee…" Marlais mumbled to herself. "Or onions, or bread." And without a second thought, she was waltzing through the kitchen and rolling the sleeves of her oversized peacoat over her arms, ready to be met with the outside cold that late January morning.

It was oddly quiet on her street for 10.30am on a Saturday. She expected people to be up to their weekend errands by this time, but she only saw a few cars crunching gravel as they made their way down the long stretch of street behind her. A fan of quiet neighborhoods, Marlais shrugged and continued her stroll to the grocery store.

With a feeling of renewed space and time, Marlais decided to take a longer, and much less efficient, route to the grocery store, hoping to pass a park along the way for an even more relaxed stroll. A few straight blocks and awkward turns later, Marlais walked onto a stretch of green wide enough that her body emitted an exhale as though she'd arrived home after a long day away. She knew that feeling well. The park was like a maze, Marlais could already tell. In the center sat a medium sized fountain – nothing overwhelming. The area was still and silent as the day was unruffled. The fountain's footsteps led to different paths around what Marlais assumed to be the park's grounds. She walked to the fountain and turned to her left, following the path ahead of her without thinking about why or where it would lead her. After several moments, the force of her feet against the dirt path underneath her created an auditory pattern that induced a meditative trance within Marlais as she walked deeper and deeper into the park. Each step sent a vibration up her leg and through her spine, only to occur again with the next step. Her arms swung freely, and she was beginning to feel her pace quicken slightly, as though she were walking with intention. Birds sang above her and trees as tall as the clouds in the sky loomed over her, like older siblings watching her every step. She blushed at the thought of someone taking that much interest in her life, in her direction, then remembered that she was personifying trees in her mind. She walked for what felt like hours, though it may have been merely minutes. She walked long and deep, though she knew the park to be modest. Something about the stillness of the late morning and the emptiness of the park enveloped her into what felt like a time warp. Even though she felt alone, she wanted to be nowhere but there in that solitude.

"…the pace of trust…"

Marlais stood still immediately and felt her body tingling in the aftermath of her abrupt stop. She swore she heard another person speak, but she also could swear she was the only one in her section of the park. It was so empty that if she were to hear someone, she’d have to be hearing their body moving in tandem with the birds – their own legs firmly atop the solid earth beneath them. She wouldn't just hear a voice… would she?

"…deep breaths are… foundational elements of the pace of trust."

And again, she heard a voice speaking. It was deep, and soft, and peaceful. It was a woman's voice. Marlais slowly looked around her, coming close to the side edge of her path and preparing to enter what looked to be neverending woods in order to find the source of this voice. But she settled into the thought that the voice couldn't be that far. It was like the person was close to her, but not necessarily next to her. She walked back to the center of the path underneath beams of light passing from the sun through leaf-less tree branches and illuminating her skin in striped strokes. Maybe it was all in her head.

"…it's slow and steady. There's no race to win."

But it wasn't all in her head. At least not consciously. She could feel part of herself wanting to get scared; wanting to react like someone who swore she was utterly alone, come to find she'd been well-accompanied this whole time. Her heart's beats shook her ears and she willed herself to calm down through deep breaths. It's slow and steady… she heard in her head and breathed this statement deep into her lungs, allowing fresh oxygen from the air and plethora of trees around her to follow the words. Actually, as she checked in with herself, Marlais felt safe. She felt covered. So she continued walking and resolved to allow whoever was speaking to, perhaps, keep speaking.

Birdsong grew in volume as moments turned to minutes. Marlais' pace quickened, then slowed, then quickened again as she once again found a rhythm she was comfortable with, all while hoping this soothing voice would return. She wasn't sure where her intrigue would take her, but as long as she felt willing and able to keep walking, she'd allow herself to find out.

Time continued to pass and Marlais continued to walk, feeling her mouth becoming dry. A lengthy stretch of time must have certainly passed, now that her body was beginning to respond to her energy exertion. She was surprised hunger hadn't yet caught her, or that she wasn't yet aware of it in her body. There was still an omelet to be made, she reminded herself.

"It requires a sense of deep and true understanding that, sure, everything has its own timing. Everything has its own cycle. But also that…"

Marlais listened closely and brought her steps down to a slower tempo.

"…things can look one way and feel a different way – they can appear one way and feel differently. And I feel, personally…"

So, this was a person talking to themselves, Marlais surmised. Her intrigue grew, though she wasn't sure it could get any more profound. It was like she was in someone's mind.

"…that sometimes I get a little blinded by urgency and I get a little worried as a result of the fast pace of my mind; the fast pace of the energy within me and around me. It naturally produces worry. It naturally produces a disconnection from the now. It naturally produces a misalignment with an ultimate truth. That kind of truth that grounds us into the sensual present moment where the perfume of the air and the music of the sky come together in just the most beautiful orchestra of mystery and magic."

Marlais wished this was her mind. There was a melodic nature to this person's words, and as she continued to walk down this truly neverending path, Marlais found a harmony with the words meeting her ears.

"There's just a natural sense in the natural world. A natural sense in a slower pace. A pace of trust and realization in being. I'm at a loss of words, truly, because naturally, words don’t always come. And I suppose that it can be seen as a good thing that when words aren't coming forth naturally, I can dream my way into meaning."

A smile grew on Marlais' lips as she thought of her job as a content writer for a fashion magazine and all the times she had to feign interest in the latest athleisure trend or corporate acquisition to earn her paycheck, when she'd much rather be writing the lives of fictional characters and interviewing her loved ones about their most intimate experiences.

"Today, a butterfly perched itself on my arm.”

The voice continued, and Marlais relaxed her palms in her pocket, which signaled her hips to relax. Her lower back softened and she drew her gaze inward to imagine a butterfly on her own arm.

“The same arm connected to the pocket where my phone was. And this butterfly was so beautiful. It was orange. That was the primary color that stood out. But it had a black border, a few white spots, this beautiful dark brown fur in the center, these two long antennae with bulbs at the ends of them. And it just faced me on my upper arm there. And I knew that if I were to make a move to get my phone to take a picture when it was so close to me, just to capture the moment, and, therefore, capturing some of the essence of the magic, it would fly away. It's like the butterfly told me that.

"I had a sense that this butterfly was my friend and when I wanted to move, to even take a step, the butterfly flew away. It was as though it was speaking to me in that very moment, for that moment. A moment to cherish. A moment to trust. And I was so thankful afterwards, I just felt like someone had given me a kiss on the cheek. And it was sweet and special. These are the kinds of moments you don't get when chasing around an illusion of life. You only get these moments when you're in the moment. The beautiful, bittersweet, salty-sweet moment of time. There's nothing better than it."

Marlais exhaled deeply, a low note following the last of her breath out into the air in front of her, but almost immediately, she felt her breath again at her cheeks, eyes, and lips. It was a damp breath and felt moist to the touch. Her eyes had been closed, and she'd been crying, though she didn't know for how long. Her palms were also covering her face – hence feeling her breath intermingling with her tears. She'd been moved by the words she heard, as though they were spoken for her and somehow by her. She moved her hands slowly down to her chest, uncovering her eyes and expecting to embrace the expanse of nature she'd become accustomed to throughout the last, what felt like, half-day. But she was facing the window in her bedroom, sitting on her yoga mat, hearing a soft meditative melody ring through her small speakers from her bedside table. She hesitated to think she'd been dreaming, or that she'd hallucinated such an experience. If she allowed herself to go down that route, where sould she end up? "Things can appear one way and feel differently" floated through Marlais' mind in coincidence with her familiar overthinking, and the flurry of anxious thoughts swiftly abated.

Her watch chimed softly in the other room, indicating that it was probably, maybe, 9am. She didn't know anymore. She didn’t really care. At that moment, she was at peace with being.