Point form: September

1.
September had the best of intentions. But then she was swallowed in large chunks, mouthfuls of days. All she could do was dissolve in the acids of memory. Settle into the slimy folds of a cerebral cortex.

2.
I found out about a death. A very specific death of someone I knew obliquely who was nonetheless important. He supported me in ways I didn’t know I needed and didn’t understand the value of. I would like to find motivation in this subtle regret. Somehow use this as a catalyst for courage. How many years can I lie fallow instead of tossing a few seeds to see what happens?

3.
I sometimes think I don’t challenge myself enough. Don’t surround myself with people who push my limits. It’s leading to a strange mix of fear and complacency. Too much self-satisfaction is bad for the soul.

4.
I was feeling chatty before I sat down to write. If you were here, you’d know what I mean. I miss you. In every sense of the word.

In which we find no triumphant return

I lost my voice. Or rather I buried it in a pile of fancy words and fictionalization for many years. Because I have a deep fear of being too open. If no one knows what I really think (or worse, what I really feel), then my solemn little soul is safe. It can never be absurd in its own home.

Recently, I uprooted what feels like everything. In reality, I kept my husband and parts of my job, but we moved our lives to the West Coast, leaving many good friends and a few bad habits behind. The physical upheaval unearthed a capacity for openness that has taken me two months to begin examining.

It could be that just living here breeds both physical and mental activity. In the context of this new life, I can’t seem to stop exploring thoughts. Chasing down ideas and finding the intersection where I can join the conversation.

All this is just the catalyst for a vocal resurgence. I’ve been excusing my silence as a refusal to add to the din of opinions battling inanely in the chasms and caverns of the internet. Which is ridiculous, now that I name it. A thousand others may say the same things, more succinctly, more loquaciously, more elegantly, or more crudely. But maybe I can pick up a few things others have missed along the way. And within this, we may find the beauty of meeting each other inside experience. In plain voice.