I think sometimes there can be too many words. When I have so many words it gets crowded in my head and in my mouth and I trip over what should be said and what should be left unsaid.
I am a library mouse, scampering about in this unfamiliar noisy life. Where are the books? Where are my words?
A couple weeks ago on my way to therapy (yes, I go to therapy and it's a good thing) I was awestruck of a beautiful sunset and how it singed and stained the sky and stretched out across all the land, and the clouds made patterns...
and it really made me feel very, very small.
I've thought about that night often since then, and the best way I can describe it is just "Bigness." Have you ever lied in bed and felt like everything was giant around you? Something like that, only not scary.
I mean, I know the world is big, but in that moment it felt infinite and like the sky had an unimaginable depth, with a world inside it that just kept going on and on.
And here I was with my [small] problems and my [small] life and my [small] words making a too big deal out of it all.
Just who do I think I am? And what am I going to do with myself?
[to be continued...]