White Noise

Since I was a child, I’ve been a light sleeper; 5am birds, loud trucks, raining cats and dogs, and barking dogs.  To cover up these impulsively, intermittent interruptions, I use “white noise” – a sound so steady, once I got used to it, I no longer heard it.  An overlaying sound, making all that goes bump in the night disappear.  It’s being used to help infants sleep through nap time without, shhhh, don’t wake the baby!  There are things in my life I’ve allowed, all too often, to become “white noise”, things I get so used to I don’t hear them anymore, like unhappy;  an overlaying feeling, covering up interruptions of happy – not helpful.  I would describe the onset of grief as “white noise”, without the need to get used to it.  Bump – fear – nope, I can’t hear it.  Bump – anger, weakness, reality, blame, feelings, consciousness, the future – nope, I can’t hear them, enough to sleep deeply though those first few weeks.  Acceptance, oblivious, make-believe took their place, while, fearless, strong, calm, and capable overlaid everything.  Shhhh, don’t wake the truth!  It can sleep awhile, until she’s ready to hear the bumps, let them in, embrace them, and fix what’s broken.

Engage Arrived

There are very few opportunities, few ways, in this life to make life, specifically reality, disappear.  There’s wonderful, there’s awful, but they both have the same effect.   Wonderful like laughter; not a giggle or a grin, but a laugh that comes deep within, the deepest kind, that bubbles up tears, reaches can’t breath, and produces a belly ache.  “We . . . laughed together.  It was time out of life.” (The Red Tent)  Out of life; laughter that defies life’s gravity and lets me float away, only for moments, yet still needed, appreciated.  Wonderful like sleep; life’s snooze button that can last hours, a pause, an interruption, making it possible for living to require less than life’s 24 hours .  Awful like grief – a life torn in two, a heart shattered into a thousand pieces, a mind incapable of anything beyond the movements so ingrained, very little thought, hardly any presence is required.  Grief isn’t out of life or a snooze button, but disengage.  My life, my reality was still there, surrounding me, but grief’s contrary ability to also shelter my mind, wouldn’t allow life to crush me or my life completely.  Reality and grief did, over time, level out, engage arrived, and I welcomed it.