What emerges from a moment of silence? from stillness? What words need to be written right now?
These are the questions that I’m asking right now. I know that there is an inner voice, deep inside of me that has been silenced and covered over by chaos. I spent a good portion of the morning on the phone with the pharmacy, my insurance, a pharmaceutical company, trying to get my latest prescription filled without having to fork over $120 each month. I felt like the ball in the old pinball machines slamming between those pop bumpers. By the end of the morning, the “notes” section of my weekly planner was filled with numbers and vague notes, none of which had anything to do with healing. Three or so of those minutes were spent listening to various messages, menus, and selecting options before I realized that I’d mis-dialed (I’d replaced the 888 with 800 because I apparently never left the 80s behind). It wasn’t until after I responded “yes” to the voice asking “can you hear me?” that I realized that the whole thing had been a recording. I’d been primed to talk about medicine and the scammers on the other end were prepared with an offer of a free medical alert device. As I hung up, I inwardly cringed for their real targets: those perhaps slightly older than me who also misdialed.
So, yes, this is all part of the chaos that I have to dig through to get to some sort of silence. The stillness.
I’m trying to establish some new habits and routines. This morning was my first time doing some stretches on my kitchen floor. The sun wasn’t up yet and so the lights, dim as I’d kept them, were reflecting off the glass of the windows, so that the pendants hanging from the ceiling seemed to be overlapping with the tree branches outside. I think that this will make me grateful for the next time I look directly at that tree, unhindered by the reflections.
And that’s a bit of what I mean about the chaos layering over the silence, the stillness. I’d like to be able to hear the trees. But there’s so much noise.
I set a timer when I stretch. Ten minutes. There’s no preset sequence. I just try to listen to what my body wants and needs. Move where it needs to go. Ten minutes is incredibly long when my body is in charge.
I decided at some point that this would be a blog entry where I would just sit down, set a timer, and write what’s on my mind. That’s what this is then. I’m trying to …
Rhena Writes 