My Socials
There are very few moments in my life when my brain says absolutely nothing.
Usually it’s narrating.
Planning.
Rehearsing conversations that haven’t happened yet.
Remembering embarrassing things I said in Year 8.
Wondering whether birds ever get hiccups.
It is, in short, exhausting.
So when I noticed something unusual last night, I almost didn’t recognise it.
Silence.
Not the absence of sound.
There was plenty of sound.
Seven of us sat together chanting words I’d only just learnt, accompanied by a harmonium, a guitar and voices that somehow seemed to wrap around the room.
The silence was inside my own head.
Now admittedly, not all of my thoughts disappeared.
Some were too ridiculous to leave.
For example, I spent an unreasonable amount of time wondering whether everyone else realised that their toes were… visible.
Not just visible.
Completely uncovered.
There were unpolished barefoot toes everywhere.
I’d thoughtfully worn nail polish on my toes, because they feel naked without it.
I suddenly felt absurdly overdressed.
My own painted toenails disappeared underneath the hem of my dress where, frankly, they felt much safer.
Then there was the small matter of Kula Shaker.
For approximately twenty years, I had believed they were enthusiastically singing:
“Go in her vagina gina…”
It turns out the lyrics are actually:
“Govinda Jaya Jaya.”
That explains quite a lot.
I’m not entirely sure what I thought they were trying to achieve in the original version.
Halfway through one particularly peaceful chant, another problem presented itself.
The deep-fried black pudding I’d enjoyed at the pub beforehand began expressing some very strong opinions.
Normally, this wouldn’t have been especially concerning.
Except chanting creates pauses.
And quiet rooms have excellent acoustics.
There was no possible way of discreetly releasing the pressure.
So I sat there during Om Namah Shivaya, smiling serenely while internally negotiating with my own digestive system.
I won.
Just.
My friend’s car suffered the consequences later.
Despite all of that…
Something extraordinary happened.
For hours…
My brain stopped worrying.
There was no rehearsing tomorrow.
No replaying yesterday.
No endless list of things I should have done differently.
Just singing.
Listening.
Swaying.
Being.
On the drive home we took the road over the tops to watch the sunset.
The windows were down.
We sang loudly to 90s music without caring whether either of us could actually sing.
It felt like one of those moments I’d always imagined belonged to other people.
The sort of thing friends in films did.
Except this time…
It was happening to me.
I’ve realised something this week.
A few weeks ago I was worrying about holidays.
Before that I was worrying about storms on cliff tops.
Now I’m writing about Sanskrit chants, hidden toes, misunderstood song lyrics and desperately trying not to fart in a room full of peaceful people.
Life isn’t becoming less ridiculous.
I’m simply spending less time watching it through a window.
I’m finally inside it.
And honestly…
It’s much more interesting in here.
— Frost ❄️
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