Noise

This morning, I bustled about getting coffee, then traipsed over to the living room and moved the rocker to face the windows but still gather some heat from the electric fireplace. I turned it on and sat down. I got my blanket; my down vest whistled as my arms busied about organizing everything around me. Geez, I’m like an old lady. I am an old lady. This felt a little bad. Who I was feeling I was inside myself was nothing like what I must look like from the outside. I wonder what Whistler’s mother was thinking. Maybe that she wished he used broader strokes. Or would get a decent job. Finally I was settled. Nope. Watch cap. Wiggle wiggle. Now. Not quite. It’s cold in here. Finally.

Quiet. I realized how noisy I was even without saying anything, or being a particularly loud mover-about anyway. Quiet: you see why it is the key to so much of what escapes us. “Quiet!!!” We yell, or want to. Why? I sat. I could feel the whoosh of the blood moving at pulse rate in my head,. I heard the ringing in my ears that I think must be the ears’ shock on the other side of something like a big bang--which is just me. Then my muscles began the first little switches and twitches between walking and sitting, movement and stillness. I saw the pond suddenly, and the summer chair. Snow in the night! The sun dandelion light on white. In a while my body sighed before I knew it, and my back let go. 

If only my mind would quiet down so quickly. I wonder why it doesn’t.. When will it? Is this a bad thing?