Well, it’s been almost seven months since I lasted posted, way over my deadline. Whoops. Fortunately, it’s not like I’m not getting paid for this or anything so no harm done.
I lost my voice there for a while, during all the aftermath, and didn’t feel like writing anymore so in the end I just didn’t. Simple enough. But lately I’ve been getting the niggle again, to express myself in this lovely, endlessly adaptable language we all share, which both surprises and, I admit, relieves me.
The whole process reminds me of the snails I used to love so much when I was growing up. How I’d place one on the palm of my hand and then sit still and watch it’s slow and graceful slide across my skin, the waving, tubal antennae that I’d gently touch just so I could see them telescope down into themselves, tucking away for temporary safety into the snail’s translucent little head. And then I’d wait, breathless, and count the seconds until they slowly, magically…for no apparent reason that I could ever ascertain…start to telescope back up again, a glorious and tiny display of snail-curiosity and snail-hope reaching back out into the world and waving around, feeling outside itself for the next thing.
(Here’s a lovely little video blending the grace of snail-world with an original piano piece. Really, it’s endlessly amazing to me how whatever moves you, there’s someone else out there who’s moved by it, too.)
The returning of my urge to write feels a lot like that, and I don’t understand why now? with the timing of this anymore than I understood it back with the snails, but there you have it. I guess sometimes we don’t really need to understand, things just happen when they happen anyway, and every exhale is always followed by another breath.
Well, except one exhale of course. Let’s not forget that one.
Anyway, yesterday morning I walked out of the house to head out into the world, my antennae waving around in the air above my head, only to be greeted by a sky full of the undulating song of Canadian geese in flight. It stopped me dead in my tracks as I gazed up and watched the dark, flying V’s approach and pass over and then recede again, their song receding with them. Then as suddenly as I was frozen I felt myself released, so I started for the car only to find a little Mallard duck couple waddling up the driveway toward my feet which instantly froze me all over again.
They didn’t stay very long, this pair. I spoke soft words of welcome and affection to them but all they really wanted was bread so they eventually turned around and waddled back down the driveway towards the next door neighbor’s house where their panhandling is usually rewarded.
Really, it’s such a complicated zone, this transition area where the wild and human worlds meet, full of so much error and so much tender longing. I admit, it can be difficult to know what’s right sometimes.
And then, with their departure, I felt myself released again and finally reached the car to head off deeper into a day where my antennae telescoped up and down, up and down all day, with the contact.
Frankly, I find that the human world doesn’t maintain the same cautious distance that the wild one does. At all. When I’m around people the antennae-hits tend to come with more velocity and frequency, which is harder for me and which I’m working to find a fix for. There are just way too many frozen moments at this point, way too much time spent waiting to internally unfurl again, which has got to change if I’m going to get anything of substance done.
There’s much to learn here, clearly, but today at least I’m writing again and it feels good. ‘Nuff said.
p.s. Happy Birthday sweetheart. Today is a very, very beautiful day for me because you were born. May it be even more beautiful for you.