It’s gotten quiet all around.
I’ve gone quiet.
The people whose blogs I read have gone quiet.
None of us are still waters, but we’ve all gone deep, all gone below the surface, all been dragged by the undercurrents of our lives.
Every day of this silence is like a bead on an unwanted mala.
I didn’t choose the silence this time. So, so many things have happened that deserve to be memorialized by ink on paper (or words on a screen).
The currents drag me and I’m forever reaching up towards the surface. (This is what it means to be a writer: light, clarity, transparency and air belong to the realm above the waters; everyday life belongs to this dark, subaqueous and suffocating world, with its murky depths and alien creatures.)
But part of me is home in this underwater domain as well. (Stay too long and your lungs turn to gills. You tread and you tread until you forget the feel of the ground underneath your feet. What ground? What feet…?)
I’m home yet I yearn for home. It’s quiet all around except for the din in my head. (Put my skull next to your ear and you’ll hear a distant roar like the sound of the ocean’s waves.)
I pause just long enough so I don’t forget—don’t forget the terran world of light, clarity, transparency and air. This is me putting a message in a bottle.
Someday, hopefully soon, I’ll follow it to the surface.