My heart thumps, strong and slow. I see my chest rising and falling, almost in rhythm with the music on the radio. I can hear my blood flowing, splashing against the walls of my veins; my cells frantic while they bump and race against each other.
If you try to shut up and listen—just listen. If you close your eyes. If you cover your ears like this, fold your ears tight, you’ll hear it. You’ll hear everything.
Stay still and listen. A thump, a splash, a swish, an explosion. Your body mirrors the sounds of everything else. Of the person next to you, of the calm sky, of the cat yawning on your roof, of children giggling as they walk by your house, of the wheels of a car as they touch the hot pavement. Even of the stars and the moon during the most ordinary night. The sounds of your body mirror the sounds of the universe.
You may not be where you want to be, but you are exactly where you ought to be. Right here, right now. If you keep racing to where you think you need to be, you’ll never hear it. You’ll hear nothing.