First, an apology. I could easily excuse my lack of activity on this blog as a mere sacrifice of busy-ness. It even wouldn't be a total lie. When there are only 168 hours in a week sacrifices must indeed be made. Yet the truth was that I stopped writing in here long before the busy came. I'm not even particularly sure why... I just burnt out. Not even on writing. Just on the emotional work that came along with the truly deep and introspective nature of writing. Writing can hurt, you know. Truly. At times the pain we bear for our pieces may create a beautiful and captivating work, but that is another tale. I was burnt out on pain, even the written kind.
Now, as I sit alone in my dimly lit apartment, rain dribbling on the roof and slipping down the icy cold window panes I find myself magnetically drawn to write again. I'm still not entirely certain I want to engage with the pain this summer brought. Yet I am comforted by the words I type as the world moves on around me.
I think this is the beauty of a rainy day. When the heavens open up, rain falls equally. Nothing may avoid it's torrents, though we may try. And for just this moment, in the silence, I recognize that I am a small part of a big, big world that is always moving forward. In time this storm will pass, in time the sun will shine, all in time. And so in the smallness of the moment I partake in the eternal. Storms have raged long before me and they will continue on long after I am gone. I recognize that I mean nothing to this storm. It will not look back and remember this day. It will not reflect fondly on it's interactions with me. Instead, it will progress, like always, simply as a storm.
I write this not in great comfort. Indeed, the room from which I draw breath seems cold with my musings. Yet I find them oddly... reassuring. As though, with storms passing, I remember that though it may rage all around me, this is just life and it too is passing. Rather than trying to control it, I believe I will simply enjoy it.
Already, the pounding on our roof is lessening. The wind is moving the clouds further East. In time, not even the ground will betray the presence of the storm that was. Life moves on and so will we, for we are time bound creatures with only forwards as a direction to travel.