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My Restorative Silence

July 19, 2011

I have met with seemingly crashing waves of trials as of late. Today, after telling most of the details to someone I hadn’t seen in about a month and a half, I needed to go back to refer to one particular event in which my ceiling physically collapsed in my kitchen/living room. To preface, I heard myself say, “Okay, now you’re going to think I’m making things up.”

For whatever reasons, the universe gave me several challenges at once, beyond the already expanded threshold of the vivifying but new adventures I’ve learned to embrace. I have felt deeply the limitations of my vulnerability, discovered the beauty in meditation, and have begun the process of understanding peace within loss. Still sensing an instinct to shrink back in fear and hide, I yet give thanks for my current position in the ensemble for the opera at Bard Summerscape where, with an astoundingly beautiful group of singers and friends, I rest, perform, party a bit, and recover.

After at least three failed attempts at writing, I no longer feel the need to relay specific details, elongated attempts to complain while shaking my fist at the universe, or photographs of the physical debris. Nor do I wish to convey the perhaps rational fears that yet tempt me away from living in the present, regardless of whether that “now” includes global warming, an economic downturn, or countless inevitable uncertainties. In the wake of difficult news a couple of weeks ago, an overwhelming response in the form of an urge to care for my plants compelled me to buy new soil, re-pot, and even re-root the life growing in my apartment. That simple instinct began a process by which I have come to a grateful place of responding to despair more each day with life and presence. In honor of that spirit, I will elucidate no more on these past hurts and fears, and (thanks to some incredible friends, family, and teachers) joyfully anticipate writing with renewed peace about the life I will continue to embrace, nurture, and create.

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