Basic. That one words describes my life of the past several months. We have been on a "basic" mode. Basic meals, basic ways of filling up time, basic ways of marking a festival, basic conversations...and just a very basic quality to life. Yes, things have been busier off late, but then again, when are they not? I think I was on a major mental burnout, and did not have the inclination, leave alone the energy, to communicate, or express. Words have this dual quality to them. They can carry powerful messages. But they can also spread around the vibes of inanity. Where a lot is spoken, for the sake of being spoken, but there was no real need for that many words to do it in the first place. See, even this last line could have been shorter. :)
So even phonecalls to friends or family became hard. Especially when asked the question....how are you? What's going on in your life? That basic question, became the hardest of all. Because then I would have to use words for it, and I was hoarding my words to conserve my energy for the things I absolutely had to do. Like the basics of daily living. You can just *tell* the vibes of all the judgements making the rounds in their minds. I could sense my mother's sense of frustration with me, like she was hitting a blank wall. Or maybe it was just my guilt at not being able to be the daughter she needed me to be at least for that 1/2 hour on conversation. Its all so complex and then suddenly simple, as I realise, that I am just growing quieter as a person.
The burning need to talk, to communicate, to opine, to conclude, to express....all of it was simmering down to a zero flame, slowly...slowly....because there is enough mental chatter inside my own head, and there is a sweet communion when even that noise dies down. So where is the need to talk outside?
But then, how can we function with the world, if we don't? How can we let people know we care, if we can't listen to what they have to say, or talk back to them in a language that they can understand and use to assure themselves? And so, I must try. Every now and then...to reach out and a be a little like my old self, if there is such a thing, and to make an effort at something, that just doesn't come so naturally to me anymore.
The boys are facing the brunt of this change too. It takes me every ounce of my strength to listen to them chatter and to speak out my own responses, so they know I am there. Even so, meal times are slightly quieter affairs. While a side of me battles with the romantic notion of catching up with your family over a warm, homecooked meal, there is a huger side that longs to commune with the holy act of eating and just do it in silence. And so I tell them, let's talk after. They are slowly getting the hang of it. And the next best thing is that they talk to each other, if not to me. And I am glad that there are two, instead of one.