By Aaron Davidman
The subway the freeway the airwaves stop. The traffic the deadlines the newspaper stop. The shopping the carpool the homework stop. The iPhone the iPad the Internet stop. The politics restaurant food stamps homeless man garbage can God plan stop. The drones and the clones and the suicide belts. The attacks and the cracks in the facts and the holy arcade by the black street parade and another kid down she’s been kicked by the trade. Ones and zeros piled high as the sky and the nighttime cries while the dreamer’s awake he can’t shake the mistakes of the dizzying day.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
Catch a breath. Take a sip of cool air. Sit on the ground on a rock on a bed on a chair.
Light a candle. Take a walk. Under trees. Holding hands. Bare feet.
Close the eyes. Go inside. As the belly expands then the weight of demands have a chance to release.
Give it time to unwind. The cells need fresh air to repair.
The mind quiets. The candle burns. The time slows down. The breath is here. Always. To remind. The closest friend in the world, the breath. As the world speeds on. I breathe into rest.
How do you renew?
What have you learned about yourself by unplugging?
Aaron Davidman is a playwright and performer in San Francisco.