To Undress

It’s much easier to undress one’s body than one’s mind. Think about it: how many thoughts pass through the human mind in a day? What should I wear? Did I take my pill? What sounds good for lunch? Was that cute guy flirting with me at the post office? How should I handle this tantrum over spilled chocolate milk? Is he really dating a 19/20 year old? Should I go back to school? Does this dress make me look fat? Organic milk, soy milk or conventional? Decaf or caffeinated latte? Brown or Black? Long or short? Why did she have to get cancer? Why doesn’t he call or text? Will I be alone in love forever? Why do I care so much? What are the measurements for the furnace filter again?
Taking off my jeans and black turtle neck sweater, unzipping my boots, peeling off my tall striped socks are simple actions and don’t require much thought. It’s like I’m on auto-pilot—the same way I was after my mother died and I had to decide what kind of container to cremate her in, or what she should wear at the family viewing, which pictures to include in the slide show. Some things we do with a numb mind, others we do because our mind won’t settle down.
I’m going to make it my goal to try to undress my mind from time to time. I think it will be good for me. To sit in utter, mindful silence. To give my brain a break from the traffic noise of life. Silence. It craves it. Silence. Not even the chiming of my neighbor’s old clock, or the echoes of the traffic outside my apartment, the ice hitting my window, sounding like tiny tap dancing ants, will stir it.
Silence.
Peace.
Self-love.