I have not written in a long while, despite having sat here with this empty page in front of me more times than I can count, staring into it’s abyss, as if in doing so I might conjure up the the words that seem to so covertly evade me. It is not so much that I have had nothing to say, but rather too much, perhaps. My thoughts have ventured into deep water, the expanse of which has no measure, a place where words are far too small to hold any shadow of meaning. At long last, words have finally failed me, and any attempt to use them has resulted in absolute (though respectable) sabotage.
So here I am, telling you about my complete and utter interdiction, fully aware that in doing so I have averted and successfully bypassed actually explaining anything to you.
Such is the fate of a writer, there are days when one must write about nothing, and write it well we must.
It’s a little disconcerting, isn’t it? That sudden realization that the one thing you’ve forever relied on, that old steady chap you believed could do anything, she’s failed you. Where does one put thoughts that refuse to be captured or explained? Are they simply borne upon the shoulders of your mind forever without respite, or is there a reason we so fervently desire and seek transmission and perception outside the breakers of our own cognition?
If I cannot tell you of the thing itself, at least you may understand the burden it brings to those who bear it. Our souls want to know we are listening, but there are times we have no means of doing so and are left in a maddening silence.
Then today happened.
Today was my Uncle Mike’s funeral. He was taken from this earth after years of painfully battling cancer, a fight he did with such joy and peace it can hardly be explained. Except, I knew how he did it- it was the Great Secret that found me when I was child, and that I’ve carried inside ever since. Uncle Mike was ready, eager even, because he was going home and he knew it. When I heard his children (my dear cousins) speak of their father’s redemptive story, my soul stirred so fervently I felt the world might hear it’s whispers. I knew that Love, I knew that Secret, it is the sacred language my soul has known all my life, and it was there in that place with me, reminding me….of what?
Of all that is good and beautiful and lovely in this dark world. That even when my words are too small, all that I carry is heard and known and treasured. Some things are better said without words I suppose, and some things must be.
Sidewalk Chalk 