…and a time to keep silence…
Those of you who grew up where I did, will remember only too well the phrase “Children should be seen and not heard”. When there were family or neighbourhood gatherings, the adults socialized (or whatever it was that they did – we never knew really, since we weren’t invited to join them), and we, the children, went somewhere else, to do what children did. Play? Torture one another? Pick berries? Regardless, we were only allowed to disturb the adults in an emergency. And an emergency existed only in the event of blood – and lots of it.
Times have changed, but there is indeed wisdom in being seen and not heard. And I’m not referring to children here. The past eighteen months has been an ongoing exercise in making myself heard. Through it all, I have met up with old friends, made new ones, and learnt the most incredible things about human nature and myself. It has been a wonderful adventure in self-absorption (yes, I am smiling… just a little). But just recently I was reminded that it is impossible to hear anything while we are speaking. Why I had forgotten this, I’m not sure. I use that line frequently while teaching. Perhaps it has something to do with vanity, or ego – and conceivably they are one and the same thing anyway.
I have been blessed with countless people who have touched my life – in so many indescribable ways. I must have done something ridiculously spectacular in a previous lifetime. Something on the scale of Joan of Arc I’d imagine. (I did always fancy myself a bit of a martyr.)
As you know, I have made much of my midlife crisis. And my friends have been terribly accommodating and supportive (to my face anyway). My family has suffered in silence (with just the occasional eye-rolling and desperate sighing). Vegas readers have been unfailingly encouraging – largely I’m sure because they’re pleased that I’ve been so angstfully outspoken in bemoaning middle-aged woman’s fate that there is no need for them to embarrass themselves by doing it too. Now the problem with taking on a cause such as this, is that one tends to get a little carried away. OK, OK, not one. Let me take responsibility. Me. I got a little carried away.
Perhaps it’s human nature to try to convince ourselves that we have perfectly legitimate reasons for what we’re doing. Being hell-bent on finding an elusive ‘something’ gives us permission to stop paying attention. So focused on what we think is the task at hand, we ignore the miracles waiting to guide us to a different place, that place where what we are seeking no longer matters. And sometimes, we forget that being kind is more important than being right. Even worse, we think that seeking the truth (whatever that may be) gives us a license to be cruel. It doesn’t. But I only understand that because I was temporarily silenced, by a human being who is both of this world, and not.
I careened into him in a most unorthodox manner, and he stopped me dead in my haughty tracks. It feels as though I have known him for many lifetimes. I suspect he was the one who set me alight when I was Joan. I don’t harbour any ill feelings though. I’m sure he had as good a reason then to bring me down to earth, as now.
At any rate, what he made me realise is this: the time to speak is over. I need to listen again. So I’ll be shutting down this blog for the foreseeable future. But first I want to thank you all for your unwavering love for Lucy, your remarkable patience with my Magnificent Midlife Crisis, your uncanny ability to know what to say when those midnight doubts flooded in, but mostly for your unconditional friendship, and those blows to the head when I needed them.
I have been wondering why the next book has been such a struggle. But now I know. It’s my time to keep silence. I have no doubt that this too shall pass…but let’s all make the most of the peace while it lasts shall we?
xoxo
