Calm People

Lyrics

[Intro]
Stephen, born in '45, you spoke of calm as connection.
In that room at UMass, 1979, the air thick with sandalwood.

[Verse 1]
I sit with you, old cushion, frayed at the edges from countless mornings.
Jon, 1944, your voice still lingers here, teaching us to surf the waves.
The hardwood floor beneath us, cool at 72 degrees, early light at 6:30 AM.
You hold the weight of bodies seeking silence, electrodes on fingertips nearby.

[Chorus]
Calm people, we gather in this beige-walled space.
Vagus nerve awakening, heart rates syncing to Debussy's 60 beats.
Not absence of threat, but presence of safety, you said, Stephen.
Lavender diffuses, chamomile steams in a cup by the window.

[Verse 2]
Remember the participants, unnamed in the papers, their breaths slowing.
Biofeedback hums softly, measuring variability, pulses of peace.
You, cushion, absorb the stories—chronic pain easing in mindfulness.
Jon's program, born here, threads through nerves like quiet threads.

[Bridge]
In this room, gaps in the record: missing faces, unnoted struggles.
Yet here we surf, from defensive worlds to engagement.
Polyvagal dreams unfolding on your worn fabric.

[Verse 3]
Earthy lavender clings to you, old friend, as I press my palms down.
Three little breaths, syncing to the silence you cradle.
Calm not made from nothing, but from this very spot, 1979's gift.

[Outro]
Calm people, we rise from you, connected, safe.
Stephen's theory, Jon's practice, alive in the incense haze.