I am so out of words that it feels like there is an echo within my soul.
Life has not been quiet. I have not been quiet. When I have found my quiet space within a conversation and reflected, I have been questioned and cautioned not to think so much.
I am not heeding that advise. Sitting still with the words, memories and feelings left over at the end of a day (or more precisely, what comes to the surface the next morning) are what it is all about for me.
I don't like it when I talk too much - when I am the one talking I am not listening. I have nothing to bring home with me and savor if all that I wake up to the next morning is the sound of my own voice. It is no wonder I wake up with verbal hangovers. I never thought of it this way before.
I worked both days this past weekend which is not entirely a bad thing. It simply depletes me when I do not have the time to exist in my quiet corner of the world.
Each and every time I find myself alone, I fall asleep. I am not getting things accomplished. I am not living a life worth writing about when all that I do is dictated by my schedule and obligations. There is nothing left over at the end of the day so I wake up in the morning without words.
I'm actively seeking quiet. I don't know exactly where I will find it but I know that I will. I always do.