The Lull Between Waves

When fog clings to the middle of the trees, I’m at my happiest.

Something about being held by clouds is soul-level soothing.

A sensual delight that settles warmly into my bones.

———

I’ve made a new friend over the past few months, begrudgingly and willingly:

The lull between waves.

For most of my life, lulls felt like absence, a hand grasping through fog.

They felt like something was missing, like life had gone wrong.

———

The drizzly, moody, foggy days make me feel alive in a way sunshine never can. 

I love the sun, but the aliveness from sunshine pours gas onto flame. 

Burning is not something I struggle with—but settling, yes.

The aliveness from fog settles flame into ember.

Embers are what allow the flame to expand.

———

Lulls are where integration happens; when the fruits of your harvest ripen.

Without them, collapse is inevitable.

No (nervous) system can move at pace indefinitely.

Systems require support: clean food, water, rest.

Systems love maintenance: stillness, silence, space.

Systems swoon over upgrades: capacity, baseline, resilience.

Lulls are where support, maintenance, and upgrades happen.

———

Something about knowing I’m inhaling clouds tickles me.

Maybe that’s what settles flame into ember.

I inhale, and the trees lean closer.

I exhale, and the embers glow.

With love from the forest,

~ Alexander