These days I’m calm, not pushed to blog. I admit I write in part for comments, for the sense of community evoked by reading comments on one’s words. When the comments disappear, part of my desire to make my writing public disappears too. I find myself taking joy in writing into the eternal dust, words that whirl away, unread, unremarked, simply because I like to write them. When I blog, a cautious demon sits on my shoulder whispering tsk tsk, and I backspace and erase. In my journal, I just write. The words flow out, and I don’t revise, review, worry. There’s freedom in it, and I’ve been glorifying in that freedom.

I’ve also been reading. I’m enjoying The Pope’s Children: Ireland’s New Elite, which describes and explains the Celtic Tiger’s impact on the Ireland I no longer know. I’ve been reading about Teresa of Avila, my patron saint, and also reading Reading Lolita in Tehran. I read several books at a time, for some reason, depending on my mood. Do I want to know more about Ireland or Iran? About literature or mysticism? About economics or fanatics? I dip into, then set aside, whatever I’m reading, but always return to it. In the end, I always finish.

There’s summer work, a stack of papers to be finished by Monday’s 101 class. There’s my sister’s house to get ready for her baby, due in a month, breech. There’s my father’s deck. I’m his official deck gardener now, and my mother’s beloved roses are flourishing after their bout with blackspot. If only my sister and my father didn’t live three hours away. Visiting three out of four weekends a month drains the bank account and the energy. But taking the time, honoring family, feels right.

Mum’s favorite rose

Zeke too demands time and attention. If I take stock from a year ago, I realize how far we both have come, our ability to live in the same space in harmony and contentment. Not that we don’t occasionally argue, as any 14-year-old argues with her mother. But we always come to an understanding. She is happy as long as she can be with me, have her friends around, be free to sleep in and follow her own schedule. We go hiking or swimming, go to the occasional movie, and I spend countless hours ferrying kids from place to place. In return, she shares with me her music, tells me her life, and draws me into her world. She includes me in her conversation with her friends, turns to me for advice, and assumes (knows), that I respect and love her. After the challenges of a year ago, I know how right I was to sell my horse and focus on her, to show her that I loved her enough to give up what she perceived I loved more than her.

I feel as though I’m summing something up in preparation for moving on, but I’m not really. It’s not that I don’t plan to blog any more, just that my life is cycling into a reading space right now, and I like it. It’s where I want to be. I’ll update when the mood strikes me. Maybe I’ll get back into daily writing one day soon. In the meantime, I just want to touch base with anyone who might still be reading, if anyone has hung on after all this time. If you have, thank you for your persistence.

5 responses to “Quiet

  1. I still am. If you go away for long, though, let me know when you return — I don’t use an aggregator so if I get out of the habit I won’t know you’re back.

    Take your time, and write for yourself. I can wait, though I miss you!

  2. Luckily, I do use an aggregator, else I might quit checking back in on blogs that go quiet for long periods.

    Luckily my RSS reader doesn’t have attention deficiency, a personal weakness when it comes to bloggers, but perhaps that comes from so many blogs deciding it’s too much work to post regularly. a conclusion I often reach during summer when the outdoors calls.

    I think too many obligations can weigh any of us down, and that’s particularly true with teaching, a job that would suck up all your time if you let it.

  3. Still here, still reading.

  4. Always here, always reading, always interested in whatever you want to say – so say on, at your own pace … 🙂

  5. Hi everyone,

    Thanks for your support and encouragement. With your voices in my ear I cleaned up my dream journal entry from last night’s dream and moved it over to the blog today. Perhaps I’ll do that more often.

    Loren: Teaching sucks it out of me. I love it, but it’s not conducive to the writing life, that’s for sure. 🙂

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