Day 100
empty
There is so much to take in. The sounds alone, in any given day, are like a flood. We create as a way of making sense of it all, but also to expel it back out into the world. Sometimes the way we do that is helpful, nourishing, enriching; and sometimes it is just noise.
My favorite moment is just after the last sentence rides off the tips of my fingers. My pinky strikes the period, and for a split second I am empty. For just the tiniest moment, following the exhale, I do not yet feel the need to take anything in. I notice this moment a bit more every day that I write. I notice the peace that follows.
I have always loved the desert for the way it holds emptiness. Everything that moves in a desert is disrupting a great and beautiful silence. I want to hold emptiness with that same beauty, with a great heart, with an entire sky, horizon to horizon.
All these words, they hold so much, like cactus holding water. And we slice them open and quench our thirst for meaning and connection. Language is an oasis, where we sit for hours and talk and talk. I love the space where we share words.
Yet, I say again. I want to hold emptiness. For a true friend will be quiet, will follow you out into the desert of your silence, and love you.
As much as I have to say, and want to say, most of all I want to love you, and for that, I have to be empty.
