on quiet and joy

December 21, 2011 candacemorris 4 Comments

For one of the first times in my writing life, I have very little to say.  It doesn't feel like a dry spell or block. Instead, I feel a heavy blanket of peace and quiet.   Joel and I have spent our December evenings cuddling up with Christmas movies and video games, with gumption to do little else, to see no one.  We have no real travel plans, I finished my shopping over a week ago, and aside from some baking and a few presents to wrap, there isn't any pressing matters.  This holiday has almost zero stress.  How did I accomplish this?  I would love to put the prescription in a bottle and sell it to this harried country, but in the end, we are responsible for our own schedules.  Let's face it - every one of us is exactly as busy as we want to be.

I've enjoyed a few conversations with far-away friends, but mainly feel like listening.  My end remains quiet and contemplative, but nothing too deep or melancholy.  The only real ache I have is for my sister and Clara, who kept this house bustling last Christmas.

In my home, it's dark aside from a vast array of holiday lights and very quiet save the cracks on the floor as the cat wanders by.  I've not picked up my real camera in ages, and since publishing the book of poems (upon which I am still waiting due to a glitch in the first edition I simply had to send back), I've not lifted a pen and paper.  I feel distracted and painfully private and for this Christmas, I am giving myself the gift of just letting it be so.


If you see little of me here, know I am well.  Know that I am grinning like a child at Christmas lights and glorying in naps and puzzles.

Happiest of Holiday Seasons, revelers and religious alike.
There is much sharing to come, I need my rest.