On Friday's I join with Kate Motaung and others for a writing exercise. She provides the prompt and we write for five minutes. We try not to over-think the prompt. Just write from our hearts. We don't edit (I do, a bit I will admit. It is my need to be perfect). The only rule is to visit the person before us and offer them a word or two of encouragement. I try to visit them all. Sometimes I make it and sometimes I don't. So here we go!
The hardest thing I know is to be still. It takes more courage than I have. I turn on the TV to drown out the silence. I don't want to hear the wind blowing. I don't want to hear the birds singing. I don't want to hear my heart thumping. I don't want to be still. I move about. I stand at the front window and watch the trees move. The cars drive down the street. The mailman moving his truck slowly from mailbox to mailbox. I move to the back window and watch the birds light on the feeders; only to find them empty and fly away. The squirrels scampering about the yard looking for those final bits of food to store away for the coming months. The leaves scattering across the yards and catching in the corner next to the fences and the tall dry, sheaves of pampas grass. I can't hear anything because I won't be still. I turn on the music and I play it loud. I don't have the courage to be quiet. I don't want to hear what my heart has to say. I can't continue to cry. I am so lonely. I don't want to be still. I don't want to examine my heart and the things that are so painful. I watch the clock as the minutes slowly move and the second hand goes around. Another hour comes....and goes. The sun is starting to linger in the evening sky. I refuse to be still. I know the Bible says: Be still and know that I am God....but right now I can't be still.