Just when I needed you most...

I almost returned a phone call this evening, but decided I preferred to enjoy my dinner in silence instead. Even as summer heats up, twilight in the east windows seemed to come soon. I held my novel against a fading light, a sip of wine, a bite of pasta, and the adventure of a well told story. Not only do I prefer the silence, but my own company as well. Maybe tomorrow I will check in before I sleep. Maybe.

Quite possibly, I may decide, I can do without the drama. The last phone call involved complaints about high blood pressure and not having the medicine needed. “What am I supposed to do, stoke out?” I almost offered some dietary change, but the monologue continued. Actually, it was a tirade against the doctor or pharmacist, or someone else who had failed to show up as she expected (for free, I might add). I am learning to listen, to limit my advice or comments, and to allow others to follow their own paths. I recognize that my mind falls to judgment when I think that others should, could, ought, might, or would be,  or have better (complain less) if they just followed XYZ. I can wait to be asked. And until then, I can keep my mouth shut.

The closed mouth program is getting the best of me these days. Often moments after I have asked a question or made a suggestion, I find that neither was requested. My disdain for chat tends to keep me to myself and stepping beyond my space leads me into conversations that while I deeply appreciate, are not always welcome. Why talk to me then?

My insight today is that I am not interested in having a story to tell. There are specific reasons I choose to work as I do. I like the ease of coming to my job and leaving work behind. I enjoy working in a climate controlled environment with limited physical energy expended. I am blessed with very useful benefits which include health, dental, vacation, sick and personal leave. Once those didn’t matter, and I loved my work. Today they matter a bit more and the trade seems to be happiness. That and not having a story.

There are some jobs and professions that have stories, drama, and chaos. I have worked lots of them – social worker, teacher (elementary, high school, and corrections), nursing. Sometimes they pay well, depending on how you measure your time and worth, but mostly they take a large toll – mentally, emotionally and physically. The moments I felt useful, helpful, and purposeful fail to balance the times I felt overwhelmed, put out, and dismissed by a system that neglected real human needs and the clients we served who felt they were victims deserving of total care.

Being a mom carries all that responsibility and the added measure to ensure my children (and grandchild) grow into strong, healthy, responsible, productive adults. Compassion dictates that I believe all people deserve that same support. We have to get up and get what we desire and need, rather than expect that other people will serve us. Children grow strong and independent when given a stable foundation, adequate information, and the freedom to make mistakes in a safe environment. Those particular principles make me a different kind of mom. They shape my perspective on social services, community support programs, teaching and nursing.

I maintain my commitment to be story free, but also stress free as one seems to follow the other. This is important as I desire another job, place of work, method of earning money. I appreciate the ease that accompanies this one, yet seek a fuller expression of who I am. Or maybe, a better place to express my “I am.” I feel exhausted treading water in this sea of pretence. I understand the financial incentive that traps those around me, but find any sense of confinement brings urgings for freedom.

Today I honor what is – I have a workable job, a doable occupation, and an opportunity to be witness to what comes up. And yay! We are under a new moon. The perfect time for planting seeds of change, visioning possibilities, and expanding prospects.

Let this be my story – that I am living my life well.

So Be It.

The Importance of Solitude

“I live in that solitude which is painful in youth, but delicious in the years of maturity.” ~Albert Einstein

I appreciate the quiet – time to think and be with myself.  In the silence, I can hear myself, that distinct voice free of the influence of another’s wants and needs.  I can hear the voices of others as well, even more clearly than when they are present and I find that I understand more of what seems to be required of me in a given circumstance.

The biggest challenge to my space and time for peace and reflection is the demands of others for connection.  When I sleep, I disconnect.  I am away from my computer, cell phone on silent and turned over to block any lights or buried, and ear plugs.  It is my intention to sleep until the appointed time that I awake.  Before I sleep, I use that solitude for reading, writing and thinking.  If I wake early, I stay in this sacred space.

I think we (as a society) have grown so accustomed to being able to contact each other at a moment’s thought that we have forgotten and forsaken what was once basic courtesy and need for privacy.  I remember when we waited until after 9am to call another’s home and if the phone rang after 9pm it must have been an emergency. There was an agreed respect for family time, rest, and renewal.  In a world that operates 24 hours a day, we have opted to apply our needs to others whenever we decide, regardless of importance or urgency. 

I work nights and as such, sleep during the daylight.  Sometimes I sleep mornings, but if I have chores or plans, I sleep evenings.  Either way, those in my life know that my availability varies.  The advantage for them is that I can assist with their lives while they are at work, but that also means that I will sleep as needed, when needed.  The issue arises when someone is out there texting, calling, emailing, or sending notes with no response (in the manner they expect).  I am completely secure in my decision to rest, so attend those contacts when I am ready to be engaged.

Being alone these days is a treat.  It is rare that we see advertisements for vacations that include silent walks in the woods unless it’s a photographer.  We are shown travelers in mass, rarely lone readers, writers, hikers, or swimmers. 

As a child, I loved the few moments I enjoyed alone. I am the eldest sister with five siblings.  I carried a great deal of responsibility for the care and tending of my family and found that school, homework and reading gave me the needed refuge from the constant barrage of demands. 

I need time alone to dream, vision, imagine, and believe. I need space to remember who I am, recover lost ideas, assimilate new concepts.  Time to myself opens the doors to possibilities hidden in the myriad sights and sounds of daily life.  I need time to breathe, and to breathe deeply. In solitude we find the strength to live the decisions we have made, to face the consequences of our lives, and to go on.

All that I am in available in the quiet.  It is here with my heart open I find forgiveness and resolve. There are places and ways that I have been that arise for review.  In these moments, I accept the life I have chosen and with courage go on.  To deny this sacred time with and for ourselves is to forgo daily blessings. 

If ever there was a need for silence, it is now.