Astrogator's Logs

New Words, New Worlds
Artist, Heather Oliver             

Dwindling into Silence

Faced with a few shoals in my sea of life, I know I’ve reneged on my wish/promise earlier this year to reactivate my blog. If the latest round of ordeals leaves me standing, I will try to remedy that. At times like these, I always think of how much I haven’t done or seen yet…but also how lucky I have been in my friendships and experiences.

As age inexorably overtakes us, our intrinsic abilities get blunted: memory, stamina, input from the senses. All these changes weaken, isolate us and encroach upon both calmness of mind and ability to experience pleasure. What we once achieved effortlessly becomes difficult or impossible. But athletes and dancers learn this hard lesson much earlier in life—as do sufferers of incurable chronic or progressive diseases.

Too, if we’ve opined on many things—as I have—it feels redundant to discuss them again unless we’ve had a major change of mind/heart. This results in further isolation and an ever-growing sense (and bona fide status) of irrelevance. And the fact that so much of my fiction lies half-finished, put aside while I’ve been running my tiny indie press single-handedly, has been haunting me nonstop.

Vows made to ourselves during a crisis are often forgotten when we enter calmer waters. But I made two today, and will do my utmost to honor them if I’m granted the leeway. I’ll catch up with my precious friends, and stay in touch thereafter. And I will revisit the universes I created, where I spent long spells of unclouded bliss. My heartfelt thanks to the beloved companions who shared portions of this journey.

4 Responses to “Dwindling into Silence”

  1. Calvin says:

    I, too, have intended to keep up better with friends, including you. I have not kept my intention. Much of that is the droning ordinariness of life; I barely want to live through committee assignments and reading inarticulate theses, much less write to other people about it. I suppose social media is supposed to provide a venue to reach out across the waters of the every day, but that sea is so poisoned I won’t go near it.

    I suppose I should share the poetry in the bees at work in our garden, the birds singing the same songs for centuries, the spider tirelessly weaving her net; the shattered glass under a heavy fallen branch and the branching worlds had it fallen slightly differently; and maybe even be less ashamed of the tiny blessings I have accumulated, and certainly not earned, even while recognizing the many tribulations of the world around me.

  2. Athena says:

    Life certainly pulls us down with its grinding burdens. Social media is very much a shoal-studded sea, and claims excessive bandwidth even at its best.

    I’m delighted with the images you chose to share, and I cannot agree more with your last sentence.

  3. intrigued_scribe says:

    As stated so eloquently here, storms larger and smaller between stretches of happiness, and mundane everydayness can and often do interfere with intended goals, including keeping up with friends.

    In recognizing trials and hope of the return of more tranquil waters, it comes to mind to share even things small and unexpected, the mood — and unforeseen inspiration — of a gleam of sunrise, a bonfire that invites gathering, giving light in shadows.

  4. Athena says:

    All of these, my dear!