How is it that for the year 2015 I've only been able to squeeze out one blog post a month? Not too long ago, words tumbled around in my head with such ferocity that I had to let them out --- blog posts, journal entries, novels. Now it seems I resemble the waif pictured above. Where have all the words gone?
It's a truism that you can't get perspective on things until you've passed through and can look back with the clarity of hindsight. It seems like an odd way to order the universe, though. It means walking through each day with limited understanding and maximum vulnerability. If it were up to me . . .
I'm coming to believe that not only is there nothing new under the sun, but there is also nothing new to talk or write about. Even the book I'm halfway done writing has gone silent. I know these characters. Some of them I've been living with for nearly three years, since they first popped up, full of energy and falling all over themselves to tell me their tales. Now, I scratch at the door, stand on tiptoe outside the grimy window to peer into a dusty room, cluttered with cast offs and trailing vines, that creep up through the floorboards, going no place. Do I shrug and walk on? Do I park myself on the front porch and wait for something to happen?
The headless cherub sits in our front garden bed. Her head is perched serenely nearby, not macabre, merely resting. It's the way I feel today, many days.
Languid? It is unreasonably hot.
Detatched? More like wrapped in cotton.
Fatigued? Resigned? Content? Solemn? All of the above.
When all else fails, it can be chalked up to a developmental stage. Life is chugging along and carrying me with. People in my compartment are reaching their destinations and waving good-bye. That's the way this works.
They say to pay attention to the journey, not the destination. I try to do that, but sometimes I just want a rest stop. A brat and a beer. (I know, I know --- that doesn't mean I can't think about it). Stretch my legs and take a nap and look around before climbing back on board. But that's not in the travel plan.
I have great companions for the trip. The car is crowded with people I love. I know they won't let me bail out or wander off.
What's too self-evident for words?
We're here for a time and then we're not. It's the here that counts today.
I have great companions for the trip. The car is crowded with people I love. I know they won't let me bail out or wander off.
What's too self-evident for words?
We're here for a time and then we're not. It's the here that counts today.
