Today, I am waking up — literally. I’m taking a long slow breath that fills both my stomach and my chest to full capacity. And then I’m letting it go… all of it. The expectations, the doubts, the regrets… all the parts of myself that are whirling endlessly without actually going anywhere. The parts that echo a turntable stuck in the static after the music has ended. Or a tire that spins and spins on the ice, burning energy without moving the car forward. If I’m going to be dizzy, I’d like to at least enjoy the journey — by dancing, by exploring the body of a lover, or by learning something new at the speed of a hundred-foot waterfall! I’m tired of the ache in the pit of my stomach, the shallow breath that makes me feel fragile and barely alive, the clumsy unsteadiness that causes me to drop things or bang my hands into hard objects that seem to appear out of nowhere. I’m breathing in again, filling myself with oxygen, with the energy of the present moment, with the lightness of *now*. And breathing out all of the disquieting distractions of my pain (which is all in the past) and anxiety (which is all about the future). In *this* moment, I am fine. I’m better than fine. I’m strong and whole and my heart’s on fire! There is no past, no future. Only this perfectly imperfect moment.
— heidi kalyani, 2016
from the *nothing is black and white* project: illustration created out of meditation with a single unbroken line