So things have been a little quiet around here. Quieter than they’ve ever been on this blog, or potentially, any of my blogs over the (many) years.
I am a believer in rhythms. I dont know if they are spurned by the same tides as the ocean, or the seasons of the year, but I believe they exist within us and among us.
There is the rhythm of my own aptitude– when I am awake and connecting and strong and inspired. And then there is the receding wave of misses and frustration and disconnect. I wail against a wall that does not exist, and then the next day, life is seamless again.
Then there are rhythms between us. When we can tune in to the other. It’s quiet and it’s sneaky. It happens and you have no control over it. These moments are the fullest. And while I dont think I can control my connection with my husband or my sister or my friend, I can control the environment around us.
I push back the creeping distractions of busyness and isolation. With one arm raised, I hold the darkness at bay, and run towards the tune we both hum.
Chris and I got out of town the other weekend for a small and quiet anniversary celebration. It was sweet and tuned in. Unfortunately, it was also brief. I wish I could protect these times indefinitely. But then Monday comes, and routines return. And with routines, obligations and chores and commitments that bite at the heels. I am stuck now between the place that was and the place that is and the place that will be.
The present, and being present, is my omniscient foe. I want to do all the things, yet be no where but here. With him, on that porch, with that sun setting over the mountains. How do we do this? I’m really asking.