His world is spinning. He reaches out for the wall, but he still feels like he is falling and braces to brake his inertia. Gravity imperceptibly tugs him down to all fours. His façade of steady breathing is internally betrayed by the hammering in his chest as his heart drops lower to the ground. Ultimately he finds himself in supine with his appendages splayed for traction.
He looks up at the same dark sky that the seven billion other people on Earth do but in his two square meter area the stars will not stop moving. He snaps his eyelids shut to attenuate the effects of this lay-down movie and instead, is forced to watch re-runs of the previous reel. “Be still and know that He is God,” he recites to himself. The maxim feels hollow.
How is he supposed to be still when his location on this planet is travelling at 850 miles per hour? How is he supposed to be still when the earth is traveling at 67,000 miles per hour around the sun? Or when the Solar System is moving at over 500,000 miles per hour around the center of the Milky Way? Or when the celestial body that is the entire Milky Way is trudging along at 620 miles per hour towards the Great Attractor 150 million light years away?
“Be still and know that He is God,” he echoes. The Psalm rings true.