There has been a ringing in my ears for the past five days. Yes, both of them.

When I pay attention to it, what do I need to do to make it stop? I hear it saying, Elena sit down and write.

I have ignored the sound, though, the daily to-do list looking at me from my crowded desk waiting for my undivided attention.

Can you not see me?

Truth is, I hate to-do lists.

They bring my minimal state of anxiety to a skyrocketing top for no reason at all. And yet I keep doing them. I even use various colored pens, gels one to be precise, to indicate different priorities.

A ladder of tasks.

For instance, red means get to it ASAP. Yellow stands for do it at your earliest convenience, while green is for I can do this last. Makes sense, doesn’t it?

Color coding or not, today, the list can wait.

The ringing has gotten louder. My head feels like it’s inhabited by an unsettled family of bees. It’s bugging me like the little gray mouse that has found shelter under the kitchen sink since last Sunday.

Uninvited guest.

How long will you stay?

Computer on my lap, still in my pajama; it’s Sunday, after all. My long hair in a chignon. It reminds me of the one my mother used to wrap my hair in before my ballet classes. The brown clip pulling at my temples. Pink headphones louder than they should be. Zhu is on repeat. Do you know his music?

There is no heater in the apartment.
For most of the year, the temperatures are excruciatingly hot here. I would much rather have an AC than a radiator. My body craves a massage like the cookies I dip in my black coffee when I wake up.

I have been alone for the past three days.

And I have barely spoken to anyone except for the beautiful people I zoom with. We spend one hour together online, and I honor our time like the warm sun peeking through my window as I write this.

I also speak to myself.

My voice reassures me. It startled the sounds in the head and makes them stop. Have you tried it? Speaking to yourself, I mean.

My favorite is to sit in silence.

The pleasure of doing nothing.

A sense of peace washes over me, like the warm oil of a Shirodhara head massage.

It’s in these moments of stillness that I am able to connect with my inner self and with something greater than who I am. I see the paramount version of myself from the outside, and it feels both frightening and empowering. Like when you are about to step on a gigantic ferries wheel.

It’s here, curled up on the couch, the chicory coffee getting cold sitting on the glass table, that I find inspiration.

I get answers to my questions, and I don’t need anything or anyone. I’ve done a ton of inner work to get to this level of inner peace. And it was all worth it.

Even when I didn’t see it.

I can hear the weekend chaos in the street. The incessable loud honking, people yelling, the insanity of traffic. But when I take a step back and find a moment of calm, I am able to tap into a deeper sense of purpose and meaning.

We are all connected, not just to one another, but to the entire universe. And in those moments of spiritual connection in solitude, I feel a sense of oneness and belonging to all that is. A renewed sense of immense gratitude for the miracle of being in this body fills my heart. Is it beating a little louder?

Memory brings me back to when I was sitting on another couch in another part of the planet, visualizing what I am doing now.

And here I am.

No longer envisioning the dream but living it. It’s even sweeter than I had imagined.

And you can too.

You can have any life you want. Abundance is your birthright. If you have the desire, the Universe will show you the means to make it a reality.

Ask. And you will be given.

Cross my heart.

Thanks for reading.


Breathe with me for a moment.