yikes.
i haven't been here in a while. as we say in uganda, 'i have been lost'. and i have. i have lost my voice - not the one that comes from my mouth- but my voice. i have been so lost. and when this happens- when silence then begets silence- i begin to go into my head and think that i have nothing to say. at. all. i begin to wonder why i ever thought i did have something to say. and i begin to be pretty sure that i'll never have anything to say again. if i do start to write, i stop quickly. i have drafts. i have snippets. i have idea fragments. so i just stop trying. i avoid. i distract (which is really easy.. like looking at online shoes, and reading the people website).
then last night a friend sent me a message. "don't forget to keep writing. and breathing. just felt like sending you a little reminder." she must have listened to that still small voice. remind her. how connected we all really are. how we can help each other along on our paths. how we can give support - when we are listening and responding.
so here i am gabi. here i am trying. here i am feeling at the end of a long season, about to have a respite. soon to reconnect with people who i have longed for- for two years. i think that is part of why i have been lost. because i'm tired. because i sometimes need the people who have known me almost always, to remind me of myself, of who i am and who i'm not, and what i'm doing.
the other day i called the US to make some doctors appointments for when we are home. there was something in hearing those so familiar but so far off southern accents that unlocked me. i found myself remembering the waiting rooms of offices, the long shadows on the sidewalks in front of us as zoe and i walked to the orthodontist, and then to piano lessons, and to the market. i remembered the light, the dryness of the air in the fall, the smell of leaves on the ground, the cleanness, the finished-ness, the order, the roads. i remembered the systems, the options, the availability of everything.
i remembered our life in the US two years ago. i remembered zoe and where she was and how consumed i was by her, and how she is the reason that i found this voice in the first place. because i needed to speak it. i needed to taste it a second time, to understand the first time better. i needed to unravel our story, i needed to untangle and find myself again- apart from her.
but. that is what lifetimes are for- the continued untangling- the voice finding- the understanding. the tasting.
yes.
“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.”
― Anaïs Nin
because it's so sweet.
(thank you gabi.xo)
i haven't been here in a while. as we say in uganda, 'i have been lost'. and i have. i have lost my voice - not the one that comes from my mouth- but my voice. i have been so lost. and when this happens- when silence then begets silence- i begin to go into my head and think that i have nothing to say. at. all. i begin to wonder why i ever thought i did have something to say. and i begin to be pretty sure that i'll never have anything to say again. if i do start to write, i stop quickly. i have drafts. i have snippets. i have idea fragments. so i just stop trying. i avoid. i distract (which is really easy.. like looking at online shoes, and reading the people website).
then last night a friend sent me a message. "don't forget to keep writing. and breathing. just felt like sending you a little reminder." she must have listened to that still small voice. remind her. how connected we all really are. how we can help each other along on our paths. how we can give support - when we are listening and responding.
so here i am gabi. here i am trying. here i am feeling at the end of a long season, about to have a respite. soon to reconnect with people who i have longed for- for two years. i think that is part of why i have been lost. because i'm tired. because i sometimes need the people who have known me almost always, to remind me of myself, of who i am and who i'm not, and what i'm doing.
the other day i called the US to make some doctors appointments for when we are home. there was something in hearing those so familiar but so far off southern accents that unlocked me. i found myself remembering the waiting rooms of offices, the long shadows on the sidewalks in front of us as zoe and i walked to the orthodontist, and then to piano lessons, and to the market. i remembered the light, the dryness of the air in the fall, the smell of leaves on the ground, the cleanness, the finished-ness, the order, the roads. i remembered the systems, the options, the availability of everything.
i remembered our life in the US two years ago. i remembered zoe and where she was and how consumed i was by her, and how she is the reason that i found this voice in the first place. because i needed to speak it. i needed to taste it a second time, to understand the first time better. i needed to unravel our story, i needed to untangle and find myself again- apart from her.
but. that is what lifetimes are for- the continued untangling- the voice finding- the understanding. the tasting.
yes.
“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.”
― Anaïs Nin
because it's so sweet.
(thank you gabi.xo)
1 comment:
No thank you for writing. and feeling. not many are willing to enter into the hard places but you always are. i appreciate that about you. xo
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