A Quiet Spell

Quiet.   NOTHING happening.  After a summer of travel, engagement, family, learning and adventure my calendar is empty for the next two weeks. 

In theory this is a good thing.  Theoretically, I can exercise, eat well, clean, meditate, read, paint, catch up with friends.  I am doing some of all of that, and feel the better for it. 

But without the plane to catch or the guest to entertain or the hostess to be just that much more pleasant for, my first thoughts of the day are not a joyous exclamation of “This is the the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.”  No, my thoughts go more along the lines of, “How in the hell do I fill this day?”  Turns out that even with plenty of interests, days can be very long.

Mourning creeps in to these quiet days.  Self blame hides in the corners.  To some extent, I can welcome them – the self-pity, the blame the loss.  They are welcome to visit – but they cannot stay.

And that’s the challenge, isn’t it?   Having opened the door for overwhelming sadness and confusion – who require no invitation -  how do I gracefully suggest that they move on? 

My plan for today?  A visit to our local thrift store, a run and maybe I’ll try a new recipe tonight.  Tomorrow, I am hiking with some neighbors.    And that’s as far as I have it planned – because as challenging as quiet spell is, I sense that there are gifts here for me that I don’t want to squander in meaningless scheduling.

Bring on the quiet.  I am ready.