At the Doorway of the Cave, in Sunglasses

Mountaineer in one of the ice caves of Paradise Glacier, Mount Rainier National Park, Washington, CA. 1925. University of Washington, Commons.

Mountaineer in one of the ice caves of Paradise Glacier, Mount Rainier National Park, Washington, CA. 1925. University of Washington, Commons.

Enough of crouching the in winter cave. Enough of sitting next to the chicken of depression and saying, “Hey buddy, hows you doin?” (thanks Gary Larson, for that metaphor) It’s spring now! The sun is shining, the flowers are blooming, I’m sneezing… maybe I’ll just stand in the doorway of the cave wearing sunglasses, enjoying my Claritin fuzz buzz.

My apologies for not posting a blog in a long while. YOU probably haven’t noticed, but it’s been disappointing as hell for me. I’d done so well to faithfully write and post something every week, even if it was weak. I stuck to a personal goal of blogging every week. But I hit a massive wall of silence in January and I literally had nothing to say. I’d heard this happens sometimes to creative people, but since I’m not particularly creative or even a professional writer, I assumed I’d be immune to such high-grade oddities. Huh, although I don’t think it’s a sign of my qualification to high-grade oddities.

Well anyway, confession is good for the soul, most often in private, behind dark wooden doors with screens for anonymity, whispers and sobs and trembling hands. But I’m already at the door of the cave, remember? I’d rather not look back right now. So I’ll just admit it to God and the tens of people who read my blog that I HAD NOTHING TO SAY.

Silence isn’t always bad, in fact I could list several occasions that I wish I had kept my stupid mouth shut and pulled the blank look down over my face, the look that people put in their place should have. Or the impassive look that wise sages sometimes hold, blink and hold.

No, that was not my silence. Mine was the silence of a gift being covered, set out of reach, on ice and numb. The silence of thinking, and rethinking and not quite grasping words or the conclusion or the meaning yet. So I waited. Not patiently, but I waited. Got comfortable with the break from thinking so many things at one time in the Slush Puppie machine kind of way that my mind usually grinds away at so many ideas, repeated conversations, random memories, and to-do lists. In the waiting I prayed and meditated, 3 am seemed to be the routine time my mind decided was appropriate for that. Really, I have a fun circadian clock.

And now inexplicably, the silence is broken. I just wanted to share that.

Musical Pairing: “In Repair” by John Mayer, 2006

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