Weather Report: April 21
Today was a completely amorphous day. The wind indicated November or March. The temperature suggested late November or early December (or January, February and October.) The sun hinted April, May, August or September. I’ve seen this cloudless sky in every month, in every season.
I am adjusting to a different rhythm of the days. The pace of set schedule dissolves with each passing week. Each day of the week had its own necessity. They rolled and rolled, week after week, month after month.
Not right now. Day bleeds into day. The coming and going of the sun reveals very little that is new. Gaining three minutes of sunshine each day does not thrill me as much as it should. The gathering light exposes little.
I noticed the silence today. The blue jay usually harass me at every step. The crow cry out like Poe’s raven. No dogs barking. Even the steady northwest wind was too weak to whip and whisper through the trees.
I usually find the quietude soothing. Solace and solitude issue from space, distance. Today the quiet disturbs me. I want noise. I need uproar. I am ripe for revolution.
So, what rebellion should we incite? What cause should we promote or decry?
In the spirit of the day, I suggest we foment the revolution of uncertainty. The revolution of embracing the discomfort, especially as we grow more uncomfortable. It takes a mollusk two to four years to create a pearl—two to four years of being irritated and annoyed to form a pearl.
May the irritations of today—the silence, the noise, the peace, the commotion—whatever it is that annoys us—be transformed into the pearls.
I love you.
I hope for you.
Please be safe.