I planned to write here daily in November, instead, I've barely scratched the surface. My journal is bursting with words--I'm slowly typing my manuscript a little bit at a time. But, this is a season of going deep within and my wayward heart alternates between wanting to sing all day for everyone who happens by and an instinct to hide in silence behind heavy walls. Connection and self-protection. Always a delicate balance--especially for me.
Even just with this post, I am walking along the edges of uncertainty--what to express, what to keep to myself. I want to know you. I want to be known. There are many forces that have built me. Loves, betrayals. Wounds, gifts. I'm made up of the great terrible-beautiful that holds together all of our walled-off hearts. May Sarton said, "There is no doubt that solitude is a challenge and to maintain balance within it a precarious business. But I must not forget that, for me, being with people or even with one beloved person for any length of time without solitude is even worse. I lose my center. I feel dispersed, scattered, in pieces. I must have time alone in which to mull over my encounter, and to extract its juice, its essence, to understand what has really happened to me as a consequence of it.” Her words are embedded in me--her words say all I cannot.
So, here is my quiet little love song from the inside. Right now, I am embracing the solitude to collect up all of my scattered pieces for the long winter ahead. Right now, I am in here, trying to understand what has really happened and dreaming, creating, and being. Right now, all I can do is breathe and count cracks in the cement and wonder what you're doing out there.