I am once again drawn to writing to calm and restore myself after a trying few days. The heat of summer has finally broken and the chill of midnight, wrapped in the occasional sprinkle of soft rain has soothed my anxiety. Odd that it has also energized my insomnia. I feel a call to write when I am finally silent. It is as if there are words and images forcing themselves to the surface and if I do not release them somehow I experience pain. It is often I am seemingly forced out of bed and elusive sleep to put carefully plait my words, weaving them into life in a journal or on this blog.
I love to write. I love to craft vivid images with words and play with metaphors. I bliss out with good storytelling. I also love to read. I am surprised I have been reading so much non-fiction lately as I usually prefer novels, mythologies and poetry. I enjoy falling into a story, tumbling into the lives of the characters, seeking their meaning out of the adventure and holding their joy, pain or tragedy as my own. I can escape, or just hide in a book, feeling safe. Glorious!I find it odd, that at this stressful time, when things are often grief filled and difficult, that I have not picked up much fiction.
Maybe I have enough adventure in my daily existence just now. It occurs to me that possibly I have been driven to understand this altered life. I have somehow internalized that if I just know enough facts about something I will understand it. Perhaps that is one reason I have not been writing my own fiction much lately. (Fibletts to my my friends mom excluded) This reality is surreal enough. Who needs to make something up when daily life is so fantastical?
So now I think I will try to see what meaning will come with this non-fictional adventure story. It is a romance, a mystery, a thriller and horror filled tragedy. Sometimes it is funny and sometimes farce. All genres are embedded within this tome. I have started reading a college friend's memoir. Perhaps indulging in this next art will help me learn yet another method of meaning making.
My friend from the Alzhiemers Caregivers Support group and I were driving home from a visit with her mother who is afflicted and struggling. My friend and I had been talking for most of the drive home. I made some silly trite comment like "One more successful visit, One less day to do this" when she said "How does this end?" All became silent. I know how it ends and so does she. Forgetting, death and grieving. What we don't know, perhaps the real question is "What happens next, and how do I prepare for it? How can I survive and find peace with this?"
Alzhiemers is a book to read with your finger on the last chapter. It makes it easier to hold onto what is still there in spite of the losses when you know it will be gone. Hold on, the story is yet to unfold and the meanings and understandings come later.
And now, my heart is calmer, my mind at ease, sleep finally returns my affection. May the calm silence of the wee hours enfold us all in gentle slumber. Thank you, Grimelda, for this lovely night.
Amen
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