listening to the silence
This week I went for a manicure. That gentle feeling of someone else caring for your hands. A gift given to me by the people I work with. Time taken to rest. To sit there and be cared for.
I painted the base layer for a painting on board. It has been on my mind to paint again. I don't paint that well but still I paint. And sometimes, I love what I make. Just once in a while. Mostly it is just hours playing.
Hours of play. That must be good for me.
I just did what I could to hold still. To not generate activity. To be with myself.
To feel the winter. To let darkness be dark. To let the day be the day.
To hear my heartbeat and know that listening was enough.
And of course I hooked. Blue on cream. Cream on blue.
Bring me green it said. And so I did.
I am trying to listen. To the rhythm of February.
to the the sound of a life that flows.
A stream merging with a river, merging with the ocean.
Small but part of everything.
Life is quiet sometimes. It just wants to whisper to you.
At first I am like, speak up I cannot hear you.
Then I turn down the noise.
Way down. And I can hear a gentle knock.
Or perhaps a longing.
To be a witness to your own self
in your own life.
Listening to the silence
until you hear what needs to be heard,
what you are meant to hear.
- Deanne Fitzpatrick