This feels like another day where I have to calculate and measure words accordingly. If I were to select a handful, what would they be? Would the be kind? Necessary? For the highest good for all involved?
I think about a handful of silence and what I can do with that. I can cut myself on it with ambiguity. I can move into restless rumblings and attempt to take the wheel of every circumstance around and inside of me because #ihatepowerlessness. For me, silence brings in a heavy sense of powerlessness.
I sit with that for a moment.
It could be an opportunity to sink deeply inward and find stillness and peace. It could be used to listen intently to the world around me and really hear what it has to say. But for me, silence equals a connection to a wound and I have a hard time sitting still in it. And I’m a Buddhist, so that’s a fun path.
Words and silence are in my hands, while in a place of waiting. Waiting for so many things to offer a clear and definite answer.
Is this the way? Is that? Is this the solution or a place of more destruction?
I will walk gently with this silence, as if I am carrying a small baby bird fast asleep in my palm. I do not wish to disturb anything with my hands anymore.