*Magnify*
    May     ►
SMTWTFS
   
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
Archive RSS
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1066591
by Rhyssa
Rated: 18+ · Book · Contest Entry · #2314580
Another journey in Wonderland
#1066591 added March 20, 2024 at 12:43pm
Restrictions: None
H2: Educations
The Mock Turtle has received quite a lot of ‘educations’ under the sea like the different branches of Arithmetic - Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision. Share with us a most unique branch of education entirely from your imagination. (<500 words)

The Art of Stillness:

The basic premise of Stillness is found in meditation, without the idea of emptying one's mind. Instead of reaching some kind of silence of thought, the idea is to remain still in body, thus allowing for rapid and adventurous flights of thought across any manner of subjects. Stillness is the moment in the night that I realize that I'm dreaming, because motion is impossible, even though my mind is still racing or flying into dreams.

Although it may be considered merely the absence of motion, true stillness is more complicated than that. This is the art of a photographer or sniper, who remains still while ants crawl over him and crass tickle his nose waiting for the right time for his shot. This is the art of an artist's model, maintaining a pose past the time muscles cramp and light freezes in complicated patterns on muscles. This is the art of sitting on the floor with a hand out, waiting for a skittish animal to regain his courage and but his soft head against the hand.

This art is rare but not unknown in the very young. As a baby, I was able to sleep on my father's chest without incident. Neither of us rolled over or fell off, a feat that he was unable to repeat with any of my less still siblings.

But to truly master stillness, one must be older and choose to be still, until the body feels heavy, leaden. One must feel breath slow and heartbeats grow in volume until they echo in one's ears and chest. And when the eyes are closed, one must see worlds upon worlds growing into story while the body anchors one to the present and real.

Word count: 291

© Copyright 2024 Rhyssa (UN: sadilou at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Rhyssa has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1066591