Dear Reader:

I am sitting in a quiet office, listening to the sounds of construction (new Arts Center!) and birdsong outside.   It is 9:28am.  I normally don't blog until late at night when all of my "work" is done, but today seems special.   It is the last day of kindergarten for my kids.   What a year this has been, for all of us.   I will admit that I feel a bit of trepidation regarding a summer with no formal, structured childcare for my kids.   We will be spending a lot of time together.   I freely admit that unstructured, unscheduled free time is not a good situation for me.  I live and work so much better with structure and providing it for myself has always been a challenge.  I will also admit that I often view my work time as a relief from parenting and my home time as a relief from working.   I will still be working this summer, but most of the things I have to do this summer can be done from home.   I hope that I can start cultivating time that I do not perceive as a "relief" from anything.  

You know what I really want, dear reader.   I want it to feel like it's a "relief" to be me, right now, in this moment or whatever moment I'm in.   I somehow got knocked off center this year and feel like I'm working hard to get back into center.   And, I somehow am perceiving that my "working hard" (yeah, I know this is a lot of quotations... :)) is not the thing that is going to get me back to center.   I had a great conversation with a friend the other night.    She mentioned that she is a world class journal-er, but that sometimes she thinks journaling creates an environment in which rumination can run wild.  And, as we all know, I have a tendency to ruminate which is, maybe, unhealthy.   I view this blog as kind of a public journal.  A blog like this is a really strange animal, isn't it?  A journal is supposed to be private, but here I am sharing things.   Of course, I am not sharing everything, as one could in a journal.   And, I feel like this is a healthy outlet for me - mostly.   My life as a busy, working, single mother in a rural area with mostly busy married friends makes consistent, adult interaction of a meaningful kind challenging for me.   So, I create it virtually.   Ah, but there are perils in this sort of relating, aren't there?  Well-documented by those doom-sayers that predict the end of human face-to-face connection through technology.    It's probably not that extreme, but caution is warranted, both universally and personally - for me.    Real life is better than imaginary life, you guys.   I want to know people in real life.  

So, anyway, I am going to take a little blog fast and Facebook fast.   For a month.   I am going to try and spend more time in real life that I do in my virtual life.   I'll come back on my birthday - June 24th - 44 years on this planet.    I'll let you know what happens in between.   Mostly, I am doing this because I think my writing on this blog has become less inspired and less interesting.   So, I'm going to store up some experiences and save them to share later.   And, hopefully, get back to my wonderfully amazing sense of humour.   It's one of the best things in a long line of best things about me, dear reader.   :)

But, I will leave you with a poem that spoke to me today.  Maybe I've shared it before?  

*********************

Keeping Quiet

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all stand still.

For once on the face of the earth,
let's not speak in any language;
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on their clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about.
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I'll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

---- Pablo Neruda

That penultimate stanza is profound, is it not?   So, I am going to be quiet for a while.  But, no worries.   I will be back.   I'm going to listen to those construction sounds and bird sounds for a while right now and go play the piano for a while and have lunch with a friend and then set about this adventure of spending the summer with my kids.   Adventures, here I come!

Thanks for reading!