Its been like this for a while. I have been developing theories as to why it is. I have been thinking that perhaps it is so quiet because everyone in Boise is trying not to breathe. 2012/2013/2014/ and again this year will be the year that Drs will be diagnosing us with Boise Black Lung, I am sure of it. I have healthy lungs and I am hurting all the way through to my back. Moving around too much causes a cough that sounds as if I am going to keel over. I can’t imagine how people with compromised lungs are coping. The smell is in my nose, my clothes and everywhere you go. But I digress, I thought it might be the collective not breathing but then I started reading other people’s blogs and posts and they too are feeling a very odd silence. They aren’t in Boise so it zapped my theory out of the water. Someone suggested that the world was just taking a moment to pause before it turns its page into Fall. I love that idea and it appeals to my sense poetry. The blue chair has suggested the reason it seems to be resting so heavily on me is because of the how long the time has been for me since I realized I had gifts and possibilities. It has been a long while, it takes time to get all your ducks in a row, and your arrow pointed in the correct direction. So I have been “hurry upping (its a word cuz i said it is)” and then waiting. I need school to start. Routine to start. I need new faces and conversations. New ideas to bat around in my head. I am ready and have nothing but time. I have settled my arrow on its rest, lifted the bow and begun to pull back… the tension getting stronger, containing more and more energy until my bow is bent to its maximum. With one finger above and three fingers below, I am cradling that arrow. That arrow has every thing it needs except release.
I am just sitting with this moment, there is a lesson in it for me or I wouldn’t be uncomfortable. I am finding this to be the rule rather than the exception. If I am uncomfortable its because there is something I haven’t learned yet that needs to be learned before I move on. The tension in my bow is both painful and delicious. And I keep running the moment that I remove my fingers from the string over and over again imagining what that release of power will feel like to me and to all the world around me.