this day of beauty and stillness
I have not written here in weeks. I had nothing to say except the mundane. Today, on this day of beauty and stillness, I have. I have written several things, to friends, to myself, in my diary. I’ll collect them here, because together they make a picture. It may seem melancholic, but it wasn’t written in that spirit.
This morning I wrote this in an e-mail to a close friend:
I woke up this morning to an amazing stillness, outside and inside. There were almost no sounds and I did not feel anything. Do you know this state, when you just cannot make out any feelings inside you? No joy, but also no misery, no nervousness, no contentedness, … just empty. Maybe the slightest bit expectant. A bit like the stillness before a storm, yet without the undertones of threat. I took my diary down to the kitchen to write in while I was drinking tea and eating porridge and it helped to just put into words all my jumbled thoughts as they came into my head.
Now I’m just back from a walk around the park. It was cold, but also very beautiful, with a high, pale blue sky and sunshine that seemed more like March then January. There were some things that made me smile… children in the playground, a group of mentally disabled adults with friends or carers who marveled at some birds that are kept in a small aviary in the park, a kite that had got stuck in a tree some time before and provided a dash of vivid red in between the bare, graceful branches.
Yet now I’m back at my desk and still I feel this emptiness. It’s not unpleasant, it’s not pleasant, it’s nothing. It’s simply nothing. I don’t even want to shatter it, as I think I could, if I put on the right music, for example. I want to wait it out and see what happens. I have the feeling that something will happen before the day is over.
Right now, all I can say is that I’m very calm and very awake. Waiting, but without impatience. Something will emerge from the emptiness.
And this is what I wrote just now, sitting on my bed next to the window in the afternoon light, a cup of hot tea next to me and candles giving warmth to the day:
I can feel my soul breaking as another day goes by in silence. Finding my feet has never been so hard, considering I know exactly where my feet are. Why is it so hard to express what is inside me? So much hope and so many dreams and everything so hard to unlock.
Everything is full of beauty. If you look closely you can see that there is life everywhere. It all fits together. It all fits in. I would like to cry, but my eyes remain dry.
Letting the days slip by without leaving a mark on them nor letting them touch me does not seem like a good way to spend the limited number of days at my disposal.
For the first time in weeks I feel awake. I am awake to see that I am sleeping with my eyes wide open.
A seagull just flew by my window. The low afternoon sun gilded the underside of its wings. The beauty of it made tears spring into my eyes.
I am so awake it hurts. I am so awake that I cannot see my life.