"What do you mean?" "I'm right here."
I'm confused.
Knowing that I'm capable of leaving the kettle on the stove, boiling away unattended, I'm a little panicked. Did I actually get up and go somewhere, out of the room? Shit - I'm wandering now? This isn't good.
"I'm right here", I re-iterate.
"But for a split-second, you completely checked out. Your eyes just shut down; you did a total disconnect."
I shrug sheepishly. "Maybe I had one of those mini-strokes - do you smell burnt toast, too?"
I half-smile, hoping this quasi-lame attempt at wit will throw him off this current line of questioning.
But, alas - no.
"Remember we talked about your rich inner life?"
"Yeah..."
He pauses. He's waiting, patiently, in his professional way, for me to fill in the blanks. I'm not biting today. I know where this is supposed to lead, what I'm supposed to say. I'm tired. Too tired to lift my leg through that hoop.
Different strategy. Fill-in-the-blanks turns out to be a bust. Sorry, man.
He starts anew. "Can you tell me anything about this world of yours? Your..."
"Narnia?" I whisper quietly, almost just mouthing the word.
Immediately, I concurrently feel guilty for being smug and difficult and pleased with the perfect description.
I've never really delved into Tolkien, and - truth be told - don't have any burning desire to do so, but somehow, nevertheless, the idea of a secret private world (accessed through the back panel of wardrobe!) is very appealing to me.
"So...my world..." I pause for what seems like an hour as I scroll through the perils of too much disclosure...
"It's rich, it's real, it's encased within impenetrable concrete walls."
Pause.
"Sometimes, the door creaks open, just a crack. That always ends up being a mistake."
"Most always, it remains sealed shut.
Hermetically sealed.
Any exposure to the outside world threatens to vaporize everything - it's so beautiful and fragile to begin with.
Harm and destruction can only come from letting anyone in."
"But I know how to tread the paths mindfully.
I know how to gracefully hold the spirit just so.
I know how to soothe the hurts with tender eyes and gentle touch.
Just me."
So, there you have it.
I feel deeply. I fear much. I bruise easily. I trust rarely.
And finally - finally -
I am becoming okay with it all.
That's where I've been.
_____________________________
"I'm right here", I re-iterate.
"But for a split-second, you completely checked out. Your eyes just shut down; you did a total disconnect."
I shrug sheepishly. "Maybe I had one of those mini-strokes - do you smell burnt toast, too?"
I half-smile, hoping this quasi-lame attempt at wit will throw him off this current line of questioning.
But, alas - no.
"Remember we talked about your rich inner life?"
"Yeah..."
He pauses. He's waiting, patiently, in his professional way, for me to fill in the blanks. I'm not biting today. I know where this is supposed to lead, what I'm supposed to say. I'm tired. Too tired to lift my leg through that hoop.
Different strategy. Fill-in-the-blanks turns out to be a bust. Sorry, man.
He starts anew. "Can you tell me anything about this world of yours? Your..."
"Narnia?" I whisper quietly, almost just mouthing the word.
Immediately, I concurrently feel guilty for being smug and difficult and pleased with the perfect description.
I've never really delved into Tolkien, and - truth be told - don't have any burning desire to do so, but somehow, nevertheless, the idea of a secret private world (accessed through the back panel of wardrobe!) is very appealing to me.
"So...my world..." I pause for what seems like an hour as I scroll through the perils of too much disclosure...
"It's rich, it's real, it's encased within impenetrable concrete walls."
Pause.
"Sometimes, the door creaks open, just a crack. That always ends up being a mistake."
"Most always, it remains sealed shut.
Hermetically sealed.
Any exposure to the outside world threatens to vaporize everything - it's so beautiful and fragile to begin with.
Harm and destruction can only come from letting anyone in."
"But I know how to tread the paths mindfully.
I know how to gracefully hold the spirit just so.
I know how to soothe the hurts with tender eyes and gentle touch.
Just me."
So, there you have it.
I feel deeply. I fear much. I bruise easily. I trust rarely.
And finally - finally -
I am becoming okay with it all.
That's where I've been.
_____________________________
I absolutely loved this from the moment I first read it. Thank you for sharing this piece of who you are, this page from your lifebook.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad to be here with you for this journey!
Ti: My deep gratitude to you for giving me a safe place to initially set this down. I will never forget this kindness.
ReplyDeleteIt's a journey for sure. Glad you're back.
ReplyDeleteMeg: You and I have walked long paths, for sure. There are days I just wish that I could do the 'I Dream of Jeannie' nod to my destination, rather that usual circuitous route it is necessary to take.
ReplyDelete