Legs laid low on the sofa – what a gift, I can cancel and cancel,

Clear the diary, simplify the day – simplify life,

Losing the detail instead of being lost in the detail,

Just the throb in my temples.

Eyes closed – physical disorientation but mental clarity. I’m brought to a tender halt of gentleness and clarity,

From this sofa I know what’s important and I let go of what isn’t.

 

The constant hum of the Westway reminds me of the breakneck world out there,

But I’ve got permission to not move

Meeting – cancelled

Work – abandoned

Plans – scratched

I’m not in a state of ecstasy, just in a state of contented beingness and timelessness,

My body has brought me to meekness, 

And here I am on the sofa on a Tuesday afternoon, blessed and inheriting the earth

 

Memories of days off from school – Pigeon Street, my mother bringing me snacks,

Wooly-headed boy,

Now an experience of Being that would have been out of reach had my working day gone to plan.

What is this migraine? A whisper from the beloved:

This migraine came to tell me one thing: “I love you”

 

Tom Charles @tomhcharles