Solitude

I've been quiet the past few weeks. I have felt the need to wrap myself in a protective bubble of solitude. Our world is so full of noise. Cars, sirens, televisions, radios, crowds of people, phones, iPods....everywhere I listen, there is noise. Maybe it has been longer than a few weeks. Maybe it has been since my diagnosis. I am not quite sure.

Noise isn't necessarily bad, and some sounds cannot really be classified as noise. Bird song for instance, invites solitude and reflection. Laughter lifts the spirit and can be shared or experienced solo. And even the cacophony of life ...genuine noise...can be good, because noise = life!

But there are times, when I need to pull inward and reflect and meditate on the things I have learned amid all of the noise. When I lived in Florida, I would go out early in the morning just as the sun was rising, and walk in beautiful silence along the ocean shore. There were sounds, my feet moving through thick white sand, the gentle shush of the Gulf Coast as it touched the shore, gulls and sea-birds, and even a quick hello as one morning sojourner passed another in their morning quiet. My walks never failed to bring peace, to find beauty, because it was there...no matter which direction I turned.

Here, I do the same. I get up and walk and I try very hard to enjoy the stark beauty of winter. Every day I find something peaceful, a bird, a deer, or just the sound of my footsteps as my feet crunch through the snow. It is difficult at times though, because I crave the sun as if it were my breath. Day after day of heavy low clouds weighs on my spirit and infringes on my attempts at peacefulness. If I had to choose, I would choose to be walking on that beach right now.

But we can't always choose. Sometimes we must take what we are given and craft something lovely out of it, no matter how bleak it seems in the beginning. Sometimes the end result is far more magnificent than we ever could have imagined. And sometimes it isn't. I will be so grateful when spring is here, the snow is gone, and there are blue skies to lift my heart. Until then, I will revel in the winter wonderland at my doorstep and breathe in each moment of peace where I find it. I will continue to use this diagnosis to transform myself and my life into something magnificent that otherwise would never have been possible.