Staring at my phone, eyes moving frantically over the apps I have installed, looking for an escape from my anxiety, from fear. Is there a distraction I haven’t opened yet? Is there a horoscope reading to make sense of my feelings? Perhaps I’ll refresh Instagram. Maybe I’ll look through my own photos. No, that’s a trigger. I can’t shop, I know that. Hey, progress! I could message a friend. It’s late and even later where my cross Atlantic friends are. What curiosity could I satisfy with Google? Is it too late to start a book on the kindle app? Maybe I’ll watch the workout I’m going to do tomorrow.
No, no, no, no, no. I know better than this. This is just blue light. This is just confetti. This rectangle in my hand can not connect me to any answers. I know I have to meditate. And then, to sleep. The answer is in stillness and silence and focus. I will grow past this discomfort. I might grow past even my comfort, and I guess that will have to be ok, because I can’t stay here.