Never really silent

We walked in silence, but my mind was far from quiet.

It is tough to calm the brain when there is so much to think about:  David left for camp, Anne’s aunt passed away, the back deck is being renovated, Katya is away in Europe, Ben needs the van to get to work, the van needs a new muffler, is it time for a new vehicle?, I need to get taxes done!, what’s for dinner….

We walked in silence, but the forest was far from quiet.

The noises were deafening: Cardinals were chirping, Robins were calling each other, squirrels were claiming their territory, the leaves were brushing against each other in the wind, the blue jays squawked at each other, the frogs sang….

We walked in silence, but my body was far from quiet.

The aches and pains ran amok:  my liver panged, my legs ached, my achilles tendons tugged, and my phantom spleen protested the pace.

“It looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day, Kevin.”  I stated.

We walked in silence.

What was going on in Kevin’s head?  Was it equally busy?  How many conversations were locked up there too?  Was it just as hard for Kevin to calm his brain as it was to calm mine?

We walked and walked and thought and thought.  Jazz darted about – was she actually smiling?  It certainly looked like it.  Was she just as busy thinking as we were – or was she simply enjoying the moment?  Oh, to be a dog – to be simple – to just enjoy.  She walked beside Kevin and I – content to be.  At least I think.

Funny how a busy brain can be cloaked by such a still cloth to fool the viewer into believing it is calm. There is no evidence to reveal such swift currents of thought.  Still waters indeed run deep.  And today – it seemed my mind was flooded with thoughts, memories, and ideas.  They swirled, they ebbed, and they flowed.

“Slow it down, Stacey. Simplify. Pace yourself.”

We may walk in silence – but reflect noisily.  We may walk in silence – but commune in partnership.  We may walk in silence – but are never alone, never still, never really silent.

About inmycorner

This blog began as an opportunity to tell my Dad's stories. I sat with him and the computer and together we told stories. It was a wonderful way to get to know Dad. He was 9. He and Mom had a wonderful life together and since she passed away a year and a half before him - Dad was ready to join her. I no longer tell his stories but have found stories of my own. The impetus to resume this blog was the discovery that I had stage 4 ovarian cancer. Since blogging had been so therapeutic for my dad and I to get through our grief, I felt maybe this would be a good outlet to process my situation. I also hoped it may serve as an outreach to anyone else who is facing this very ominous journey. So far, so good.
This entry was posted in cancer, life, philosophy, reflections and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Never really silent

  1. Gwen K says:

    Our minds can be a powerful “muscle”. Hard to make that muscle rest, isn’t it?

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