[originally written 3/1/08]
This winter I have strongly felt the need to pull myself back from the world to better hear my inner voice, the muse that lies dormant too much. My frenetic mind needed to still itself to a translucent pond of mirrored liquid so the bubbles of soul murmurings could rise up. I wanted to capture the reverberations as they surfaced as fully as possible – the reflections of insight, wisdom and memory within each bubble of thought. Each and every facet to these reverberations is music on the page. The only way that I could do this was to still the waters to that calm sheen.
So I’ve cloistered myself to avoid stirring up any waves. I’ve pulled the boat up out of water and stored the oars. Kept myself safe and still, the better to observe. I wanted to catch all the ripples and glimmerings to feed the writing.
But there is something about this seasonal transition ahead. I know I’ll be pulled out to garden, to pay my bills. I’m also restless to reconnect with my web of friends from whom I’ve withdrawn. Those who have tried to pull me out for a Friday movie or dinner date. Sometimes I’ve gone but mostly I’ve resisted the tugs to relinquish my solitary spell.
Yet the robins are back. Daffodils are stretching their winter poses up through the chilled soil. They are gingerly pushing me to put my toe out to the edge of the water and test it, test the temperature. Yes, I can test it, gently. It will be alright. The warmth is coming. I can emerge. The world awaits.