Something is happening inside. There is a pulling sort of feeling to open myself to other people and to trust in the journey of living in a community.
Under the excuse of motherhood, housekeeping and building a handmade business, I have sequestered myself in solitary confinement.
As a result I have developed an aversion to sharing my thoughts in conversation with people, hiding behind a stoic mask of self preservation. Conversation between two people can be like a duet; one voice working with another. On the other hand it can feel like a solo performance with a silent (and nodding) audience.
After reflecting on my experience with teaching in the summer program, I realize that my solo performance as a writer is an attempt to engage in conversation, a way to connect with friends while working and teaching at home. On one level there is a beautiful satisfaction in this. Yet it does not compare to being fully present in the three dimensional world, engaging in a living, breathing vocal exchange.
I am learning that it has become more difficult to express myself in spoken conversation and easier to express myself in writing.
Which has probably been true for most of my life. I remember that every one of my significant relationships began in writing. A card I sent to someone I met two years ago turned into a close friendship that is alive and energetic today.
So this understanding comes with a challenge for me. To keep speaking out. To talk to people. To be open to more opportunities for sharing in life. If you read this blog regularly, you know more about me than my neighbors and some members of my family.
Perhaps it's because you listen so well.