I fell off the blog-wagon. This is simultaneously no big deal and the worst thing to happen. Outside my head I know the world didn’t skip a beat, but inside my endlessly contorting grey matter the puzzle of how to jump on again tortured me. The more time passed the louder the chatter in my head got. It got so loud I had to abort a meditation challenge. Seriously it was *that* loud. I could not sit still for fifteen minutes for fear my ears would start bleeding in the deafening din.
And that’s the big sign I need to retreat and refuel.
When I’m unable to produce anything creative and my brain is in self-sabotage mode, it’s essentially telling me it’s starving. It hasn’t been fed anything beautiful, stimulating or awesome in a while. It needs a great film (completely different from a good movie) or some stunning art or a nature break. So last night I babysat a friend’s toddler. And I marveled.
We all used to walk like that, swaying on our rounded soles, careening forward in pursuit of a goal. Back and forth she went to grab a block, a book or a bag of stuff, chattering the whole time about the amazing thing she was about to share. She was drunk on the power of communication. Whether she was parroting new words and expressions or making demands to delay her parents’ departure, everything ended with a lilt and a bright smile. Her eyes sparkled as if to say, isn’t that amazing, I make these sounds and you know what they mean? And she’s right, it is amazing to be heard and understood. It’s what we all want. It’s the central theme of the chatter.
After she sang herself to sleep I surfed through some Netlix offerings. I watched a character released from twenty years in prison fumbling to keep pace in the modern world. There was a lingering scene of him sitting on the grass with his shoes off, feeling the sun on his skin and drinking water. It was a quiet scene, not one normally found in a TV drama. The performance resonated, even when the actor said nothing and did little. I never doubted he had a rich internal life full of struggle and fear. The character will inevitably have to navigate the thorns but for that moment the world was one big rose. That platitude is bandied about to the point of triteness, but the truth of it is as relevant as any buddhist koan.
The chatter has subsided and I’m seizing the opportunity of the Jewish New Year to hop back on the wagon. When the chatter comes again the volume will not faze me. I will decipher its meaning. I will take a deep breath and put it all on mute. L’shanah Tovah!
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