Long time no see, no hear, no read, and no write.
And I mean long! I don’t remember the last date of my last post, and I purposefully didn’t look it up to see how long it has been.
During the time of quiet, my life has been anything but. I got married, I started a nonprofit arts organization with my husband, we created and produced 5 original dance musicals and 1 book musical, we had many visitors to our home, I spent sleepless nights worrying about money, I drained my 401k, I had a few days off here and there, I slept a few winks, and I struggled to maintain my sobriety.
All of this I hope to put out here to help me sort it out. I have come to understand that sometimes the best therapy for my active – overly-active – mind, is to write it down.
Something feels different this time around, however. As I write this I feel guarded; I feel very venerable. I feel like I am hiding behind layers upon layers of gauze draperies. I can see light and shapes through them, but can’t make them out fully. And I am aware that those looking at me see the same, which gives me a slight feeling of having an edge over … something.
Over what, I am not sure. Those looking back at me, their view of me? Myself? My truths? My ability to see things clearly or my ability to want to see them as I want to see them? My desire to hide, to be ambiguous, to not explicitly understand or confront the happenings in my life?
I feel a slight breeze blowing the draperies … moving them slightly more and more to where more of the distant landscape can be seen through the folds and ripples.
Maybe it’s time for a hurricane force wind to rip them down. Or maybe I just need to find a pair of good, sharp, scissors to cut my way through the layers. You know, like that one great pair of Fiskers you know were in the junk drawer, but always seem to grow legs and disappear. Instead, I feel like I can only reach far enough to find a pair of blunt-edged plastic kindergarten scissors and just barely chew on the fabric. Maybe my teeth would make a better cut. I could get all mammalian and growl and churn and nash.
Somehow using my arms to part the gauze is not an option. I can’t seem to lift them high enough. The breeze seems to constantly blow the edges away from me as I reach out, making it impossible to find the edges. I am enveloped.
And once it’s parted, what will I have accompished? What will I see? What will you see?
Will I look into your eyes, burroughing deep into your mind and soul, and say out loud and with fully realized clarity, “Long time, no see.”
Only to recognize my face, eyes, mind, and soul looking back at me saying to me with fully realized clarity:
“Long time … no see.”