I’m not complaining, nor am I bemoaning my lot, when I say that for much of the time I feel totally and absolutely exhausted.

Well, there might be the odd time when I might feel ‘just a bit tired’, but generally speaking, I’d say that exhaustion is closer to what I mean.

But, then, this morning, as I pottered around in the kitchen, making tea, putting dishes away while I waited for water to boil, I had, what I can only describe as a sudden awakening of a sense that this – the perception of permanent and total exhaustion – might not be completely true.

I sensed, in a kind of wordless insight, that – at least in this instance – it wasn’t exhaustion I felt overwhelmed by. Perhaps, there are at least fleeting moments when I am actually relaxed and I’ve simply mistaken that feeling for fatigue, not having had enough experience of being relaxed to know the difference.

The same slow movements: mindfulness and relaxed, or tiredness?

The same slow and considered speech (and thought): again, slow and mindful, or fatigue?

Even the overwhelming sadness and melancholy that often goes hand in hand with exhaustion might be something else: perhaps it is in reality a slowing down (though it often feels far from slow, more like a racing) of the mind, combined with a state of intense inner contemplation, mistaken for sadness or whatever.

After all, the meditation I practise, the ‘just sitting’ times of quiet restful contemplation, the study of texts meant to be ‘road maps’ to inner peace, calm, and liberation, all are claimed to produce, just that mindfulness, contentment, and inner peace that I am describing.

So, how to know? How can I discern the difference? Am I absolutely and totally exhausted, consumed by melancholy and the horror thoughts that go with it?

Or am I relaxed and calm, having slowed both body and mind, and in a state of inner enquiry (contemplation) that’s ridding my mind of the horror thoughts and the sadnesses?

Thinking about it now, when I ask myself these questions, it seems to me that I am questioning what I’m experiencing as opposed to states of being as such.

And experiences are never permanent, they are always in flux, changing. New ones come, old ones go. Then more and more come and go. That is, I guess, what being alive does.

Next I’m thinking, if I truly were in a relaxed, calm state of non-suffering, wouldn’t I actually know it, and therefore have no need to ask?

Mmm; maybe. Still another thought just occured to me. Perhaps what happened, as I pottered in he kitchen was a kind a surprise reaction, or rather a reaction to a surprise. My mind – heart, soul, whatever – was so shocked by that feeling of being relaxed, content, happy even, that it simply had to pose the question out of disbelief.

Meaning, as I ramble on in my usual overly wordy way, that what happened was I noticed a change in my state of being; for that moment I was not exhausted, sad, suffering. Perhaps – for that moment – I had entered a state of relaxation and freedom from suffering.

Let it be, I say. Stop the words; give up the analysis. Let the experiences come and go. It might be that, if I can allow those changes in states of being to be just as they are, then they’ll have a chance to develop, to evolve, perhaps even to make the changes permanent!

Scribbling let it be just now, put in my mind the Beatles song of that name, especially one small snippet of the lyric, a chorus really. Even a mantra (now there’s a thought):

Let it be, let it be, let it be.
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

With love and peace

Paul the Hermit

PS I was 16 when Let It Be was released by the Beatles. I loved it at first hearing (didn’t everyone?) and I love it now. It meant a lot then, even more now. Thank you very much for the music.