Monday, January 20, 2014

on clarity and silence

   I have time now to sort thoughts. I lay awake at night and try to follow trails, threads, sort them in my mind so I can return to them later.
   I was driving home from a friend's house on one of the coldest nights of the winter and I passed the library. Snow was heaped against the windows and the Christmas wreaths were still up despite it being several weeks into January. But inside the orderly bookcases were flooded with warm light and I thought how much  I want that for my inward life.
        Clarity.

Some days I don't know how to write this blog anymore. I wonder why I started writing and why I continued. I write a lot these days but I write for myself. I write poems that I re-read for the truth I wrote out of myself and the insight that helps me to gain clarity. But those poems for the time being will stay in smooth black ink on creamy lined pages or in the word documents of my computer.

So I wonder what to write.

I am trying to learn gentleness these days; and quietness. I'm trying to learn what it means to love as Christ and so I sit with things a long time. I swallow words and speak differently than I started out to. I see how powerful words are and how carelessly we use them. How carelessly I've used them. I'm trying to relearn what it truly means to think before you speak.
 I am learning silence and stillness. Listening.

I'm searching for clarity.

So if I'm silent here, it's because I am wondering what to say and I'm learning how much better it is to say it in person. I'm trying to know my own heart and to go out from myself to know as much as I am able the hearts of others and learn to serve them beyond myself. I'm failing at it a lot, but I'm slowly learning. I'm trying to be patient. To be quiet.

I have stories and stories that I would love to share. But just for now I am turning them over in my heart like you would turn over a beloved keepsake in the light: studying nuances, considering shadows and intricacies, memorizing lines and shades. I'm soaking them in like a child who goes outside in the first warm spring sunshine: hungry.

So all of this is to say one little thing, I suppose. I used to try to post at least once a month, not abandon this little blog of mine which only a handful of people read. But I may not worry about that this year. If it happens, wonderful. If it does not, equally wonderful. I pray that I am present living life whether or not I have capacity to write from it.

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