Quiet: A quiet or peaceful quality; freedom from turmoil or agitation.



I always have a quiet time to start my day. I'm using the word "quiet" loosely here. My quiet times wouldn't adhere very closely to a strict interpretation of what most normal people would consider quiet. Behind my closed eyes World War III: The Mutants Attack! is taking place. It's very noisy and loud and violent. There are a lot of explosions and people running about, yelling at the top of their lungs. Sometimes there's blood. People don't make it out alive all of the time.

At least, I'm sitting down. I'm still jiggling feet and arms and everything, trying to ignore my hyper-engaged brain and all of its nonsense. Really, I'm ready to go at the drop of the hat. I used to put my car in neutral and race the engine, then pop it into drive. It wasn't very good on the transmission but it got the thing going in a hurry.

I was on retreat last weekend with 60 or so other guys in recovery. It's a lot more fun than it sounds, and very productive. I can sit in my chair and levitate in a spiritual ecstasy for a couple of hours after I leave, anyway. Then I'm back to normal.

One of the things I like most about it is that I'm living in a 5' by 12' room for two days. There's a bed and a sink and chair, and room for the door to swing open. There's nothing that I have to do. No TV, radio, papers, chores to do or places to go beyond walking the grounds or having a meal. It's always surprising to see how relaxing it is to be unchained from the cares and worries of all of the trappings of my world. I sit there for an hour. I don't turn the motor off, exactly, but I take my foot off the gas. It makes me realize how much of my worry is generated by my external life.

All of it, actually.