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I’m listening to Iron and Wine. It is a little depressing. It isn’t depressing because of the death aspect. The spreading of ashes around the yard doesn’t frighten me a bit. In fact, I am uncommonly comfortable with the concept of death. Maybe that is in part due to the losses that I have
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Today my therapist asked me questions. Deliberate questions. The kind of questions that make you know that she is thinking about things—piecing things together and circling back toward topics that we may have touched on but that I haven’t connected in significant ways yet. I suppose this shift from me babbling about whatever comes to
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Silence beckons. Silence heals. Silence opens. Silence kills. Speaking seems so easy. Open up the mouth. Vibrate the vocal chords. We do it all the time. We even do it inadvertently and involuntarily at times. Snoring, sighing, yelping with surprise. Speech shouldn’t be difficult for most of us. Those of us who are not abled
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It is one of those days. It is one of those times. It is one of those periods where I go through this stagnant water sort of existence. The time goes by and the life moves on around me, but I am just standing still, staying the same, and slipping away from my own life
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I’m learning to write. I’m pretty sure that I spent years of grade school learning to write. Apparently, those years didn’t accomplish the goal, or my teachers didn’t teach me well. After an injury to my wrist on a Chicago city bus (as an aside, avoid public transit on holidays when copious amounts of alcohol
Learning To Be Whole 