A magical sunset on Orcas Island, USA
I’ve never had a voice in my head, and yet, silence has befallen upon my mind, my soul and my expression.
It’s a strange feeling, when I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t sharing, or about to share, bursting with ideas and projects, so much so than taking a holiday without accidental brainstorming or idea downloads was mission impossible.
And yet, silence has befallen. At first, I felt the sense of an uncomfortable and unknown void, followed closely by the relief and rest of all superficial noise removed from my mind, my being and impulses.
That doesn’t mean I’m not creative or creating. I’m tackling the third draft of my novel and starting to lay the groundwork and structures of other creations. It rather means I’m not filling the space taken by my fears and insecurities - be them financial or matters of recognition - with ineffective and shallow sounds, words, creations. It works both ways, in out, in expression and consumption, in the content I consume and the one I create. There is no more need for validation through disquietude, random action, reaction or a path created solely in response.
More discomfort comes when the world calls forth wind and storms, with the usual Fall rush of finishing everything before Christmas and the coming of the New Year. And yet, I find myself settling and enjoying this time and this new energy, knowing that within the silence is building the truth of the future ; and that forcibly shaping it with a need to do, decide, be, act won’t change the outcome, but rather disturb the peace of the present.
Without the blankets of my ideas, I sometimes find myself naked, unsettled in the realisation that, without the ideas, I feel like a blank canvas, an untold story, one to unravel from the void, rather than one being rewritten in the margins of a brimming tome.
Fall is for harvesting, rather than bringing about newness and planting seeds. I used to be caught by the winds of creation, taken by a second spring, riding a last rush, before taking much needed offline breaks and long holidays in the winter.
Fall is for anchoring, rather than flying and bursting out. For reviewing the structures, taking stock, preparing for winter, for a quietening.
Fall, as it turns out, much like winter, can be about silence too.
Writing this letter, a month later than it should have reached your inboxes, I lack for words, concepts, ideas, “fluff”, as I’ve taken to call it now. And for once, that’s more than ok. This season in life, I’m learning how to be silent, how to write fewer words, how to focus on what truly matters, how to let be what wants to be, even or rather because, it is silence, rest and stillness.
And instead, I’d like to ask you today, this month and in the weeks to come:
How are you letting the silence be in your life and be your teacher this fall?
What would you like to read here in The Alma Writer? Shamanic musings? Novel process reflections? Creativity and spirituality jamming? Something else?
I wish you a beautiful fall. May it be filled with what you need, crave and long for in this season of your life.
Till the next letter,
With much love and gratitude,
Lucie