Winters are always hard. I am a creature of sunshine and warmth and air. The grayness and constant, never-ending cold that seep into my very being are often too much. As I age the effect seems to grow. I am tired, I am worn, I am frayed at the edges. And I am cold. So unbearably cold. I sink into the darkness without even trying to find something to hold on to. It’s a slow enough descent you don’t always realize you are moving. But you must. Because it’s important to notice while you can. To realize the voices of those you love so dearly sound faint and distant. To not let them disappear.
Yesterday I grabbed a hand and she pulled. Today she continued to pull and I found some strength of my own. The voices became loud enough to hear a dance party in the living room. I will find my strength. Tonight I look for it in the silence. In the steam of a bath in candlelight. This silence is not an absence of noise, for there is rain and a piano creating something magical. But it is the absence of voices. It is me allowing myself to turn off all the alert systems listening for any sound of conflict, or pain, or trouble. Tonight I let someone else manage that while I stop, close my eyes, and breathe.
I opened the Calm app and the first music listed was by Nick Murphy called Music for Silence. That is exactly what I need right now.
Seriously? 