It's a late October day of clouds.
The neighborhood's been fairly silent this afternoon. No deafening leaf blowers and lawn mowers, no droning street sweepers and wood chippers. Just birdsong. And the static crackle of leaves dancing down the street.
My house is dark and still, as though not even I am here. I have no substance today.
My invisibility has been coming on steadily by degrees since before Fest was even over. At that time I'd been reduced to just a hologram, powered by a rechargeable battery that was in the process of irrevocably losing its memory. Every smile started out bright and began fading at once, and it hurt significantly just to pull enough juice from somewhere to generate another.
And today there are few smiles. My post-Fest agenda has burned me out completely. It's been a difficult month....
But I think it's a good sign that for the last five minutes I've been writing.
I may feel depleted. I may feel as though my well's gone dry. But it amuses me to notice that as soon as I'm able to function at all it's not a sketch pad and a pencil that I turn to. It's not even my books or my pets or my music. It's words.
And who do I write to? You.
I have missed you.
The neighborhood's been fairly silent this afternoon. No deafening leaf blowers and lawn mowers, no droning street sweepers and wood chippers. Just birdsong. And the static crackle of leaves dancing down the street.
My house is dark and still, as though not even I am here. I have no substance today.
My invisibility has been coming on steadily by degrees since before Fest was even over. At that time I'd been reduced to just a hologram, powered by a rechargeable battery that was in the process of irrevocably losing its memory. Every smile started out bright and began fading at once, and it hurt significantly just to pull enough juice from somewhere to generate another.
And today there are few smiles. My post-Fest agenda has burned me out completely. It's been a difficult month....
But I think it's a good sign that for the last five minutes I've been writing.
I may feel depleted. I may feel as though my well's gone dry. But it amuses me to notice that as soon as I'm able to function at all it's not a sketch pad and a pencil that I turn to. It's not even my books or my pets or my music. It's words.
And who do I write to? You.
I have missed you.
...
There have been many times in my life when I have been "emptied" by (insert Higher Power of choice). Sometimes the process is quiet and easy (and sometimes not.) Sometimes I get to keep things and sometime new things are "planted." But I am always amazed at the new-and-usually-improved Me. The clutter is cleared and life takes on a new shine and sheen and my step is a little lighter. I find I look forward to the adventure of discovering myself anew and seeing what I am capable of.
ReplyDeleteMaybe it is the time of year. Autumn always makes be feel like I am on the verge of something new; the riot of color as the leaves fall in preparation for the new. A little sad and bereft at first, coming off the high I get when Nature puts on her show, but I seem to be on the adventure of rediscovering me and not sure where it will lead but it "feels" right.
Words, or at least the emotions they express, are most often what I fall back on at these times, so it seem fitting that you reach out through the blog to those who care most about you.
You have been missed, too, and I am eager to watch you come out of your cocoon and reveal the beautiful You I know is there just waiting for the right moment.
Thank you for your kind and thoughtful words, Bonnie. These down periods really do feel like a sort of metamorphosis.... There's always a change of sorts at the other end, but I only ever see it in deep hindsight....
DeleteIt's refreshing to hear you say that this season makes you feel like you're on the edge of something new as so many seem to associate Autumn with sadness and endings. I've always thought of it as a time to move slower, pull oneself inside, and prepare to rest. As everything outside wanes and readies for winter, my head begins to fill with new thoughts, ideas, questions. It's as though for a good half of the year, all has been about physical activity, but now the coin has flipped; it's time to think and rediscover myself....
I always appreciate your viewpoint, Bonnie, and am so grateful that you take the time to comment. :)
...delayne.
(P.S.: And if a Beautiful Me eventually comes out of this cocoon, will you make me aware of her?)