The Quietest Of Times

"Such evidence I have of indifference
Were surely enough to break the coldest heart.
But this heart is not cold, it has never been cold.
It never, never, never has been cold."
- Stevie Smith (Voice from the Tomb 3)

Sometimes we need quiet. Sometimes we need to step back from the world, to pretend to ourselves and to others that we don't exist. We think: You may see me, but I'm a ghost. I'm not here. My heart is breaking. My pain overwhelming. I can't stand up. I can't be a part.



Sometimes we need isolation. To be alone in a room. To be alone to mourn. To be able to hear our true selves; to hear God in silence. To allow ourselves to scream silently the questions to which there are no answers. Questions children cry when they've fallen an scrapped their knees. Why does it hurt? Isn't there anyone who can make it stop? There are times we need to experience all this.

And when you become a temporary ghost, it's convenient for others not to notice you just as you hope (and as you secretly don't hope) they won't.

But after awhile you begin to fall in love with your own intake of breath again. You begin to look in the mirror and see you are tired, that you need to be taken care of. You begin to smile again at strangers but when they don't smile back you think: maybe I have been a ghost for too long, maybe no one sees me. But you don't lose hope so easily anymore. You begin to see magic and loveliness in your life again, sometimes for days at a time. You cry when you remember how you allowed yourself to tear your own spirit apart with sadness, with words calculated to destroy. You begin to heal and take baby steps, clumsily moving into your own waiting arms. You could laugh with relief. You can stand on the edge of a group at ease with each other and call out cheerfully, with confidence: can I join you? See? Here I am! I no longer love isolation! Then you smile at the wonder of the passage of time and the way a soul becomes strong and giddy on hope.

You begin to understand that isolation and solitude are not the same. And with this understanding comes a freedom brought about by the pleasure found in being both alone and in the company of others. There. You say: I've found my way back to life. I'm rich. I'm content. I'm living.

(Grace's Parasol by Janet Hill)