Suleika and Mr. Stewart, both of your offerings today, have given me the only Quiet Place I have had recently. The gift of those few minutes to read and soak in both has been a cocoon of solitude. Thank you both. As this community knows, my mother died March 5. My father died March 31...he had told me he was "staying alive to take care of your mother." And when that final "mission" (he was Army) was complete, his heart went with hers. I will return to The Quiet Place Post again and again. I am simply tears, my mind, my soul, my corporeal body, a twisted hollow. Thank you both for giving this lost soul, a bit of rest today.
Dearest Mary - Wow! That is an excruciating, life changing blow to your heart - losing both parents within weeks of one another. Of course, your mind, soul, body are a twisted hollow. When our parents die it removes the solid framework of our lives - leaving us feeling adrift and uncertain. Our sense of self, growth and independence is shattered tossing us back into our needy, innocent childhood years where we trusted that our parents would always be present in our lives - to guide, love and nurture us. Even if that parent/child relationship wasn’t perfect we still lived our lives in reflection to the joy and pain which was framed by our parents. To lose them both at the same time does not allow us time to “reframe” our existence in a kinder, softer fashion. Sending you love and ease to you in your chosen Quiet Place while you feel all the feels necessary to transition and transform your life into its new place of being.
Mary, you have a heavy burden right now. I am glad you were able to get a bit of quiet from the prompt and I hope your load lightens soon. Your parents are together and you are left with a hole in your heart. Thinking about you. You are not alone.
I am so sorry Mary. I hope you continue to find solace and comfort here, and elsewhere in life's journey. I'm often surprised at how much love can come through the internet. Sending mine to you.
Mary. What I appreciate about your writing, today and everyday, is your vulnerability. I could not feel your brokenness if you trimmed it, wrapped it so carefully that the blood didn't weep its' edges. There are no platitudes that meet deep loss. There is only this; to love someone and then to lose someone you love, hurts. Your heart has been wounded. Care for it as you did your daughter. I send you my love.
Oh, Mary, I’m so sorry for the profound losses you’re experiencing. Everything I feel and want to say has already been said so much more eloquently by others here. I want to join in on this circle of support and love for you. You are a poet in your grief. “A twisted hollow”. I feel the deep pain and beauty in this. Be very gentle with yourself.
Oh, Mary, the 2:55am post says it all. Such a horrible time to navigate grief all at once with no respite. I'm grateful that you can find some quiet here with us. Sending love to you❤️
Thank you, Karen. Love and hugs received. "This precious, painful time." So, so well put. I wasn't going to share today and yet, I knew just writing it, in this place, with you and the others on The IJ's would be my soft place to fall.
Brenda, thank you. I send you peace and grace as well on your journey. Loss...I mean, I know, that nothing is ever the same, from day to day, moment to moment, but now, it's like it really will NEVER be the same. Brenda, may we travel this road of loss, knowing we connected here. Let us rest awhile.
What a difficult time for you Mary. Losing our parents and our 'greatest generation' is so difficult. Thinking of you and wishing you some joy in the Quiet Place. Your are not alone in you solitude.
Mary, may you find more and more moments of quiet, solitude and peace as the days move forward. Be gentle with yourself. Sending you love. Take care. ❤️
I'm very thankful to wake very early in the morning. Since my brain surgeries in 2006 and 2015, my energy levels get me through the day until about 7:00 PM, and then I'm often off to bed and asleep within 30 minutes. This means that even if I get a full eight hours, I'm up by 3:00 am (like this morning)!. After I push the button on the coffee maker, I build a fire in the fireplace, and put the living room back in order so that from my view, everything is perfect. Then I sit in my favorite chair, a 1950s naugahyde recliner unlike any recliner I've seen...black, with pecan wood trim with thin wooden legs on wheels. It's hip! I grab my book on "thin places," and begin to read while sipping my first cup of coffee, then scan emails, and then get out my iPad to do my drawing lessons in Procreate. It's hours before my husband gets up, and as much as I love him and enjoy his company, these quiet morning hours are my favorite.
Oh, I envy you that lovely time. The quiet. Watching the night wind itself down, the softest light of morning greeting you. When my children were young, I, too woke very early. It was the only time that was truly my own. I wrote ," I greet the day before the dawn, to catch the night before it flies'. Because my body is still recovering from years of flight or flight, I do not sleep well. ( very slowly getting better). Then, I often sleep late because it has taken the night for my body to exhaust itself. How I miss the early morning. May you savor every one. In peace.
I get that, Jacqueline. I spent so many years in fight or flight that I often wonder what all that corisol did to me long-term. But we only live one day at a time, right? No sense in wasting it in worry. Peace be with you!
Hi Linda. Yes, it is too late, but it serves to connect the dots so as to not repeat the damage. I am learning what it did to me. Restless legs and thyroid collapse and irregular heart beat. All my life I've been healthy. An eighteen year lonely and neglectful and abusive marriage robbed me of my health. Worse, it almost, almost, stole my joy. I am working my way back to health and peace. As Suleika said, rest is vital for health and then, for creativity. I am sorry about your brain surgeries. I pray it is healing. Sending you love and thanks for being here.
Linda and Jacqueline, I too had a thyroid that went wonky, insomnia (you both know the drill) and the terrible relationship bathed me in fight or flight. Linda, your description of the quiet of your morning, gave me such a deep, cleansing breath and then Jacqueline, your reminder of rest being vital for health and creativity. Thank you both for being here.
Jacqueline...same here...terrible relationships resulted in a nonfunctioning thyroid and irregular heartbeat, etc. You can get your joy back!! My surgeries are healing and I've learned to live with the disabilities they've caused. You may find a podcast interview I did with sister Substack writer Ilona Goanos encouraging. It's under my name on Youtube. It came out a few days ago...the background is yellow (there are two of them...one from years ago but I think this one is more helpful).
Linda, what a lovely description of your quiet morning hours. Thank you for sharing. I’m curious about the book on “thin places” and would love some book recommendations from you or other readers as this is something new I’m experiencing in my own life.
I have read a few with that title. There have been times in my life when it seems as if the veil between me and God gets thinner and I have a help of some sort, or an epiphany, or some sort of revelation. I can remember these decades later. It's not like they happen often, for sure. I found out that belief in these times (whether what I described or in actual places on Earth) is very much part of Celtic Christianity. I'm drawn to this...maybe because my ancestry is full of Scottish and Irish ancestors. The book I'm reading now (it's one where you can read a chapter and put it down again...each a story, is called "Pressing Into Thin Places," by Margaret Harrell Wills, PhD. It's very comforting.
I remember experiencing the thinning of the veil post-op. It seemed like I could just step through into another dimension - just like moving the shower curtain aside and stepping into a shower. Thanks for the book recce and I'm so grateful to have this community where I can write about this experience to others who understand. ❤️
The horizon is vast at Back Beach. That’s why I like it. Sometimes seeing the sea stretch on forever makes me feel small (but never insignificant). The way the vivid blue ocean reflects the gold streaks of the setting sun makes me feel at peace. I often wander down there and dig my toes into the warm black sand before entering the glassy ocean to float. With the water in my ears noises become muted and I can lie weightless, lifted gently up and down by the swell. I can swim in the Tasman Sea again and again and learn something new each time I duck under the surface and stroke forwards. I often think about the intricacies of Mother Nature and how she is the greatest artist and storyteller. I try to watch and listen. I feel heard and seen when I am in the sea at Back Beach. When I leave the water and wander home I feel as if I can see and hear life more clearly.
Honestly, my favourite place right now is my porch in the early morning. I live in a historic villa, and the porch is kind of a bit ramshackle. My front door is bright blue with a cloth fabric wreath of pretty pink flowers I bought at a local market.
The sun rises right where I’ve placed my chairs. I plop my bum on the big white chair with cushions, my hot coffee, and my notebook. There is greenery, flowers, and the street is close by. I like hearing the passing conversations, or little dog legs trotting past. There’s an apartment block opposite- I like that too. Having a hum of life, wondering what everyone is doing. Sometimes I take my morning coffee for a stroll down the street, and ask for guidance for the day. Sweet, loving words always come back.
This morning all the shutters and curtains were closed on the houses I passed. It’s one of the seven oldest street in our city.
I love having a sneaky peak, seeing which houses have lights on, which houses are still snoring.
Feeling the neighbourhood at rest.
It’s in this quiet I can stop, notice, feel, and ask for whatever I’m needing. This morning I handed everything over. The kids, the work project, the love life…all of it gets given over. ‘I’ll take it all” a little voice says. Thank goodness! Yay! And if I remember to during the day- if something doesn’t go my way, the way I planned, or imagined- it’s getting easier to go “oh well, that’s how it is” - such a relief to let go sometimes. This has become part of my creative practice, but more than that, my loving, quiet, rich, simple little routine. And I miss it when I miss it.
Ps gosh Intimacies in borrowed light!! 🙏🏽🤍 loved it , thank you! made me really miss those tender moonlit sweet times though!
Karen, this resonates so much with me. I have a front deck I call the "Juliet deck," because it comes off our second story living room area and overlooks a garden and the front of the house. But that's where you can find me every morning -- coffee in hand -- and in the evenings, too. I love watching the little girls across the street play imaginary games with one another, folks taking their dogs for walks, the golden pink of the sunsets holding us in a moment as the day winds down. What a great image, and thank you for this.
What a beautiful description Karen, your writing exudes peace! What a lovely moment to hold onto in the morning — quiet, stillness, the odd conversation, flowers 🌱☀️
It’s fun aye? And slowly getting to know some of my neighbours- it’s kind of a way of keeping watch for them too- like a farm dog would. Respectfully doing a quiet check all is well.
I'm stopped in my tracks. I haven't done a prompt in weeks. My ruminating prison of a mind won't let me have a quiet place. Except for yesterday at noon when you, dear Suleika, granted me that quiet hour of listening, hearing, questioning and accepting. A reprieve and hope.
A quiet place: in the full engagement of photographing a calla lily, nestled midst eucalyptus leaves, I am drawn deeper and deeper into the stillness of this flower's Beauty. I am asked to step around, gaze from a different vantage point, let the light and shadows enchant me, and they most surely do.
My "quiet place" though it isn't actually quiet is, listening to music on my headphones, while I am working from home. I have two dogs who want my attention, but when I put on my headphones and listen to music, they let me be. I usually cry while I am doing this. Lately the pain in my back has been getting worse and despite my usual optimism, It wears me out. When I listen to music I allow myself the luxury of feeling sad. My art (dolls,) sit next to my desk on pedestals. Silent witnesses to my sorrow and my joy. Lots of little joys!
Crying is a very essential process and natural release, I'm glad you have space for this each day in good company. I feel you on the exhaustion of chronic pain. Sending you supportive energy :)
Thanks so much. I took a day off from work yesterday and just laid on my back in bed, for the majority of the day. I shut off my phone. It was so restorative I just let my thoughts meander without judging them, and accomplished little to nothing. Sorry if you suffer from chronic pain as well. Sending good vibes back to you!!
As a storyteller, sometimes writing at 5 or 6am. The absolute quiet in my hood in Harlem. Lifting my ballpoint pen with my left hand to paper to write a true story from my life, without censoring or judging—just allowing my creative process to “let her rip!”. It feels freeing and gives me a great beginning and always a joyful feeling, no matter if my story is happy or sad. I’m writing! Creating! And my heart is full of love and joy!
For years I swam for exercise. Soon, I hope, I can begin again. I miss the burn in my muscles, the blood thumping through my ears, the whole-body thrill of flying like a fish. But the memory that is powerful in my body is the expansive privacy of submersion. Before pushing off from the wall I plunge or gently lower my whole body beneath the surface - and hold. Air bubbles race for the seal of my swim cap, my ear canals and nostrils establish where my insides and the outside meet, the seal around my goggles either holds or doesn’t, and my lungs honor this non-native condition. I float just below the surface, listening with wonder - every time! - to the remote clicking, tapping, and splashing of other bodies pushing through water around me, or voices calling on the ledge around. I listen, too, to my breath and my blood, those twins of vitality taken for granted. When I look up the sky, or ceiling, wobbles and I let go of whatever it is I am holding from the dry, fixed land. Then I am ready, I push off, and in three strokes I take my first long, steady breath over my slender deltoid. Nothing silences me in my body like getting ready to fly like a fish.
Thank you Holly :) I think of a similar feeling under a wide night sky when camping remotely, anytime I'm within something so vast, silent and compelling or humbling.
Thank you so much Ryder :) I'm sure there's lots more to explore with this image, it was a delight to see this one come through in the journaling process.
In 2001, a few of my siblings and I, along with our spouses, built a cabin in the mountains, to share. Over the years, two sisters decided that they wanted out, so my brother bought out one of them and my son bought out the other one. I decided to stay because the cabin has so many treasured memories for me. But it is also a place I can go to alone for complete solitude. I can be alone to resolve whatever is troubling me. Quite often it is family members. I eat what and when I want, sleep when I want and read, watch TV or go for walks. I even cry if I want without explaining to anyone what it is that is wrong. I pray as often as needed. I still enjoy being there with my husband and family members, but it is my go to place for serenity often too.
Reading books. The view of my backyard garden from my kitchen windows. Walking in Prospect Park. Seeing a movie on the big screen of a movie theater, all by myself. My watercolor paintbox, and painting with them at my kitchen table. Completed paintings taped onto the hallway wall where I pass them coming into and leaving my house. The sacred act of preparing food.
Love to go to the movies alone and while others are at work! Fridays, I steal away early for a solo lunch date but I may have to introduce a meal and a movie to that schedule now!
This gives me fond memories of Prospect Park. I walked around there in between bouts of morning sickness with my first pregnancy. Visiting the local deli, the food coop. I love the visual of you painting and then walking past them every day in your hallway. 🙏🏽
First of all, I so love that photo of you, Suleika, on the couch with your sweet canine friend. And the paintings that adorn you are so beautiful, and exude that quietness and peace you're inviting us to share in today. Thank you for that.
I live in Washington state, and in the particular area where our home is, gigantic conifers surround us. There are wilderness trails that stretch for miles around and I often walk these every chance I get. There is one in particular that is exactly 2 miles long, and I used to walk with my beautiful dog who so loved this trail, but she died last September 11th, so now I walk it alone, but every time I do, I look for her, try to feel her energy. Because this is what we do. This is one way we remember and pay homage to those we have loved and who have graced our lives.
So many people it seems are grieving right now, for so many things, and not only someone who has died. But I think every single person alive is wrestling with some kind of force, something tearing at them that they can't work out alone. This is why this amazing journal is so valuable, too, Suleika. It provides a place where we can find community. That's been the one thing that has saved my sanity in the darkest of times.
I have a friend who is undergoing an 8 hour surgery on Tuesday at 7:15 am. Stomach cancer. They will be removing part of her stomach, and she will lose 20% of her body weight. She will have to sleep sitting up or at an angle for the rest of her life. She is scared out of her wits, has a toddler she desperately wants to live for, and a husband who must be half crazy by now. I wanted to put this out, so that if anyone has a prayer or meditation group, you might include thoughts of her. She will need all the help she can get.
I’m afraid that probably it’s not a timing for you and Lara to want to hear any practical information or any sort in such a difficult time… But, by reading her situation that she will have to sleep in a sitting position, I thought to share with you, that there is a thing called dream and sleep yoga, for which one actually practices sleeping sitting up in order to find clarity and peace while dreaming and sleeping. Sorry if this kind of information is totally irrelevant or even disturbing…
First and foremost, I pray for her successful surgery and healing.
I will pray for Lara. For wisdom for the doctors. I will pray her little one has strong angels around her/him. I will pray for you, too. For your strength and courage and faithfulness. Love,
When you’ve had cancer, when you’ve faced the gruesome truth about your body’s ability to suffer, and the shocking reality about your mortality, you find comfort in positive imaginings, or you perish.
I live from day to day with a wish for stability, that time would stop. Please let my life stay as it is now.
Like this moment: A cold spring morning, a warming fire against the chill, sunlight glowing on the distant green hills, the tannic taste of perfectly brewed tea, the neat balls of yarn in a basket waiting to become my new sweater, my husband’s gentle snores coming from the bedroom, all telling me of the gifts in my life, letting me imagine a future that is only this.
And words—on the screen and floating around in my head. I imagine them built into something tangible, something I can read and marvel that I put them there, my own creation. Doing that gives me a sense of power, that I can rise above the threats and worries and find wonder in this scarred but still excellent life I’ve been given.
It is all good to travel, to leave this warm cocoon and be in the world, talking and laughing with friends, seeing all there is that exists beyond the confines of home. I won’t give that up.
But I’m most grateful for this gift of a quiet place, to knit and write and dream, to imagine how perfect my life could be if it only stayed like this moment.
This had me dreaming into the times that I have wished for time to stop. Those moments are so precious in memory. I'm so grateful to have survived to live them❤️
I wish I could "like" this comment a thousand times, Teri. There have been so many times I wish time would stop. And then sometimes it seems to have actually done so. It's like you just want the whole world to stop, so you can kind of catch up to it, let it seep in, to get through the shock of what is happening to you. And I love the things you are noticing about everything around you. Those neat balls of yarn, your husband snoring in another room, the comfort of the fire and those distant green hills. I can see it all, and it's in these moments, these simple things become absolutely huge, and it seems like every single detail, regardless of how small, comes into penetrating relief. And the gratitude...that is refreshed every time we are experiencing a singular moment when everything seems to finally be in balance. That one feeling, gratitude. The best feeling there is.
I'm amazed when I write something that works--it's like I don't know how I did it--and I'm most grateful when it resonates with others. You have taken what I said and added to it so beautifully, and I thank you. ❤️
First of all, that POEM. It's ethereal. So many beautiful lines, I had to copy and print it to read and reread . Thank you for the gift of it, Suleika. Secondly, those jelly fish I see in the background, in your work are VERY cool. Thirdly, the moment from last week I want to hang onto was seeing my only child's face as she emerged from the fitting room in her brand new bridal dress, that is ready to be hemmed. "What do you think, Mama?" I could barely speak. And finally, I live in a quiet place on Cedar Ridge Farm, but life is emerging now, peepers, wax-wing cedars, meadow larks, blue birds are all waking up, and sounding off. The horses next door canter to the next spot of new green grass, hooves thumping the still hard ground, the fox cry out at night. Nature's voice only enhance the beauty of the natural quiet that surrounds me. It's a different kind of quiet. A seasonal kind of quite, I guess, and as you said, its a creative quite that inspires me this time off year.
Thank you, Sus. I love yours, too. We are so close in distance when you are out this way, we should have a peek at each other gardens and quiet places sometime soon.
Seeing my daughters in their wedding dresses was a happy time for me too! I have coyotes and owls serenading me as I go to sleep at night and I love their serenade. ❤️
It's the best, Jeannine. So wonderful you have multiple girls! And yes, coyote and barred owl are plentiful here, too, all year round. A virtual orchestra in the spring, tho. Yes?
Any moment I have in nature to soak up the magic of my surroundings (which, for yesterday was a rocky climb around Ink Lake and the sea of wildflowers at every turn), but I also have to say that I love the quiet of these Sunday mornings. That first sip of coffee, being under my weighted blanket on the couch, the view outside is of a normally busy city (Austin) but right now, it too looks tranquil at this hour. Hubby still in bed, so I have the solitude to just read, ponder, reflect and dream
One of my quiet places is my small painting studio. Whenever i go there, i spend at least an hour without realizing the passing of time. I visit my other quiet place when i occasionally meditate. There, i always imagine either a cabin in the woods or a house overlooking the beach (i don't know where they are because whenever i wanna go deeper, i'm thrown out and can't continue meditating).
Suleika and Mr. Stewart, both of your offerings today, have given me the only Quiet Place I have had recently. The gift of those few minutes to read and soak in both has been a cocoon of solitude. Thank you both. As this community knows, my mother died March 5. My father died March 31...he had told me he was "staying alive to take care of your mother." And when that final "mission" (he was Army) was complete, his heart went with hers. I will return to The Quiet Place Post again and again. I am simply tears, my mind, my soul, my corporeal body, a twisted hollow. Thank you both for giving this lost soul, a bit of rest today.
Dearest Mary - Wow! That is an excruciating, life changing blow to your heart - losing both parents within weeks of one another. Of course, your mind, soul, body are a twisted hollow. When our parents die it removes the solid framework of our lives - leaving us feeling adrift and uncertain. Our sense of self, growth and independence is shattered tossing us back into our needy, innocent childhood years where we trusted that our parents would always be present in our lives - to guide, love and nurture us. Even if that parent/child relationship wasn’t perfect we still lived our lives in reflection to the joy and pain which was framed by our parents. To lose them both at the same time does not allow us time to “reframe” our existence in a kinder, softer fashion. Sending you love and ease to you in your chosen Quiet Place while you feel all the feels necessary to transition and transform your life into its new place of being.
Pat, this is beyond beautiful and all so true. I shall read it again as I go through this new part of my life.
❤️💕❤️
Mary, you have a heavy burden right now. I am glad you were able to get a bit of quiet from the prompt and I hope your load lightens soon. Your parents are together and you are left with a hole in your heart. Thinking about you. You are not alone.
Thank you, Lisa.
I am so sorry Mary. I hope you continue to find solace and comfort here, and elsewhere in life's journey. I'm often surprised at how much love can come through the internet. Sending mine to you.
Nancy, thank you! Yes, all of the hearts here at/on The Isolation Journals are bonded in our sharing, laughing, crying, thinking, and just showing up.
Dear Mary, that's a ton all at once - I am glad that you are here. Keep writing and keep close. Sending love your way.
Thank you, Nocapes. Love received!
Mary. What I appreciate about your writing, today and everyday, is your vulnerability. I could not feel your brokenness if you trimmed it, wrapped it so carefully that the blood didn't weep its' edges. There are no platitudes that meet deep loss. There is only this; to love someone and then to lose someone you love, hurts. Your heart has been wounded. Care for it as you did your daughter. I send you my love.
Jacqueline, you put emotions into words that leave me beautifully stunned in the elegance. Thank you.
Sending you hugs and healing. 💕
Hugs and healing received, Evelyn. Thank you.
Oh, Mary, I’m so sorry for the profound losses you’re experiencing. Everything I feel and want to say has already been said so much more eloquently by others here. I want to join in on this circle of support and love for you. You are a poet in your grief. “A twisted hollow”. I feel the deep pain and beauty in this. Be very gentle with yourself.
Karen, thank you! This "circle of love and support" truly is keeping me going forward. I so appreciate your kindness.
Oh, Mary, the 2:55am post says it all. Such a horrible time to navigate grief all at once with no respite. I'm grateful that you can find some quiet here with us. Sending love to you❤️
JB9, love received!
That's a lot to go through all at once. Be tender, be gentle, don't expect much of yourself. ❤️
Thank you, Dianne. I really needed that reminder.
My heart goes out to you!
Thank you, Becky!
Sending big love and hugs from New Zealand. I know the pain of a parent passing. This precious, painful time. May you go gently on the journey 🤍🤍
Thank you, Karen. Love and hugs received. "This precious, painful time." So, so well put. I wasn't going to share today and yet, I knew just writing it, in this place, with you and the others on The IJ's would be my soft place to fall.
Mary, sending you peace and grace to be gentle with yourself. I know the pain and grief as I am on my processing my own loss.
Brenda, thank you. I send you peace and grace as well on your journey. Loss...I mean, I know, that nothing is ever the same, from day to day, moment to moment, but now, it's like it really will NEVER be the same. Brenda, may we travel this road of loss, knowing we connected here. Let us rest awhile.
What a difficult time for you Mary. Losing our parents and our 'greatest generation' is so difficult. Thinking of you and wishing you some joy in the Quiet Place. Your are not alone in you solitude.
Thank you, Lorette. "You are not alone in your solitude." This helps so much.
Dear Mary,
Sending a big warm hug
🙏
Rodrigo, hug received! Thank you.
Mary, may you find more and more moments of quiet, solitude and peace as the days move forward. Be gentle with yourself. Sending you love. Take care. ❤️
I'm very thankful to wake very early in the morning. Since my brain surgeries in 2006 and 2015, my energy levels get me through the day until about 7:00 PM, and then I'm often off to bed and asleep within 30 minutes. This means that even if I get a full eight hours, I'm up by 3:00 am (like this morning)!. After I push the button on the coffee maker, I build a fire in the fireplace, and put the living room back in order so that from my view, everything is perfect. Then I sit in my favorite chair, a 1950s naugahyde recliner unlike any recliner I've seen...black, with pecan wood trim with thin wooden legs on wheels. It's hip! I grab my book on "thin places," and begin to read while sipping my first cup of coffee, then scan emails, and then get out my iPad to do my drawing lessons in Procreate. It's hours before my husband gets up, and as much as I love him and enjoy his company, these quiet morning hours are my favorite.
I'm a big fan of early morning solitude, too. ❤️
Oh, I envy you that lovely time. The quiet. Watching the night wind itself down, the softest light of morning greeting you. When my children were young, I, too woke very early. It was the only time that was truly my own. I wrote ," I greet the day before the dawn, to catch the night before it flies'. Because my body is still recovering from years of flight or flight, I do not sleep well. ( very slowly getting better). Then, I often sleep late because it has taken the night for my body to exhaust itself. How I miss the early morning. May you savor every one. In peace.
I get that, Jacqueline. I spent so many years in fight or flight that I often wonder what all that corisol did to me long-term. But we only live one day at a time, right? No sense in wasting it in worry. Peace be with you!
Hi Linda. Yes, it is too late, but it serves to connect the dots so as to not repeat the damage. I am learning what it did to me. Restless legs and thyroid collapse and irregular heart beat. All my life I've been healthy. An eighteen year lonely and neglectful and abusive marriage robbed me of my health. Worse, it almost, almost, stole my joy. I am working my way back to health and peace. As Suleika said, rest is vital for health and then, for creativity. I am sorry about your brain surgeries. I pray it is healing. Sending you love and thanks for being here.
Linda and Jacqueline, I too had a thyroid that went wonky, insomnia (you both know the drill) and the terrible relationship bathed me in fight or flight. Linda, your description of the quiet of your morning, gave me such a deep, cleansing breath and then Jacqueline, your reminder of rest being vital for health and creativity. Thank you both for being here.
Thanks for telling us that, Mary!
Jacqueline...same here...terrible relationships resulted in a nonfunctioning thyroid and irregular heartbeat, etc. You can get your joy back!! My surgeries are healing and I've learned to live with the disabilities they've caused. You may find a podcast interview I did with sister Substack writer Ilona Goanos encouraging. It's under my name on Youtube. It came out a few days ago...the background is yellow (there are two of them...one from years ago but I think this one is more helpful).
Thank you. I will look for it!
Linda, what a lovely description of your quiet morning hours. Thank you for sharing. I’m curious about the book on “thin places” and would love some book recommendations from you or other readers as this is something new I’m experiencing in my own life.
I have read a few with that title. There have been times in my life when it seems as if the veil between me and God gets thinner and I have a help of some sort, or an epiphany, or some sort of revelation. I can remember these decades later. It's not like they happen often, for sure. I found out that belief in these times (whether what I described or in actual places on Earth) is very much part of Celtic Christianity. I'm drawn to this...maybe because my ancestry is full of Scottish and Irish ancestors. The book I'm reading now (it's one where you can read a chapter and put it down again...each a story, is called "Pressing Into Thin Places," by Margaret Harrell Wills, PhD. It's very comforting.
I remember experiencing the thinning of the veil post-op. It seemed like I could just step through into another dimension - just like moving the shower curtain aside and stepping into a shower. Thanks for the book recce and I'm so grateful to have this community where I can write about this experience to others who understand. ❤️
Me too!
The horizon is vast at Back Beach. That’s why I like it. Sometimes seeing the sea stretch on forever makes me feel small (but never insignificant). The way the vivid blue ocean reflects the gold streaks of the setting sun makes me feel at peace. I often wander down there and dig my toes into the warm black sand before entering the glassy ocean to float. With the water in my ears noises become muted and I can lie weightless, lifted gently up and down by the swell. I can swim in the Tasman Sea again and again and learn something new each time I duck under the surface and stroke forwards. I often think about the intricacies of Mother Nature and how she is the greatest artist and storyteller. I try to watch and listen. I feel heard and seen when I am in the sea at Back Beach. When I leave the water and wander home I feel as if I can see and hear life more clearly.
A magical place! ❤️
Yes, I agree Kate, how beautiful to hear this - Mother Nature is THE greatest artist and storyteller!
Thanks Karen! Yes she really is ☀️🌱
How vividly you paint this picture of your joy. Thank you, Kate.
Thank you Jacqueline! 💛
Honestly, my favourite place right now is my porch in the early morning. I live in a historic villa, and the porch is kind of a bit ramshackle. My front door is bright blue with a cloth fabric wreath of pretty pink flowers I bought at a local market.
The sun rises right where I’ve placed my chairs. I plop my bum on the big white chair with cushions, my hot coffee, and my notebook. There is greenery, flowers, and the street is close by. I like hearing the passing conversations, or little dog legs trotting past. There’s an apartment block opposite- I like that too. Having a hum of life, wondering what everyone is doing. Sometimes I take my morning coffee for a stroll down the street, and ask for guidance for the day. Sweet, loving words always come back.
This morning all the shutters and curtains were closed on the houses I passed. It’s one of the seven oldest street in our city.
I love having a sneaky peak, seeing which houses have lights on, which houses are still snoring.
Feeling the neighbourhood at rest.
It’s in this quiet I can stop, notice, feel, and ask for whatever I’m needing. This morning I handed everything over. The kids, the work project, the love life…all of it gets given over. ‘I’ll take it all” a little voice says. Thank goodness! Yay! And if I remember to during the day- if something doesn’t go my way, the way I planned, or imagined- it’s getting easier to go “oh well, that’s how it is” - such a relief to let go sometimes. This has become part of my creative practice, but more than that, my loving, quiet, rich, simple little routine. And I miss it when I miss it.
Ps gosh Intimacies in borrowed light!! 🙏🏽🤍 loved it , thank you! made me really miss those tender moonlit sweet times though!
Karen, this resonates so much with me. I have a front deck I call the "Juliet deck," because it comes off our second story living room area and overlooks a garden and the front of the house. But that's where you can find me every morning -- coffee in hand -- and in the evenings, too. I love watching the little girls across the street play imaginary games with one another, folks taking their dogs for walks, the golden pink of the sunsets holding us in a moment as the day winds down. What a great image, and thank you for this.
That sounds beautiful Nancy, I love the image and sounds coming from your Juliet deck!
Sounds lovely.
Getting a strong visual
Thank you, Eavan!
What a beautiful description Karen, your writing exudes peace! What a lovely moment to hold onto in the morning — quiet, stillness, the odd conversation, flowers 🌱☀️
Thank you, Kate! Such lovely feedback x and a reminder of how important these little routines are.
I love our porch also. Serenity!
The best! I just thought maybe it’s also so lovely because it’s also a place that’s safe, but still connected to the outside world somehow …
I love how universal and yet specific our experiences can be. I, too, love wondering about life behind doors and windows during neighborhood walks.
It’s fun aye? And slowly getting to know some of my neighbours- it’s kind of a way of keeping watch for them too- like a farm dog would. Respectfully doing a quiet check all is well.
I'm stopped in my tracks. I haven't done a prompt in weeks. My ruminating prison of a mind won't let me have a quiet place. Except for yesterday at noon when you, dear Suleika, granted me that quiet hour of listening, hearing, questioning and accepting. A reprieve and hope.
Sending love to you Karen. ❤️
A quiet place: in the full engagement of photographing a calla lily, nestled midst eucalyptus leaves, I am drawn deeper and deeper into the stillness of this flower's Beauty. I am asked to step around, gaze from a different vantage point, let the light and shadows enchant me, and they most surely do.
My "quiet place" though it isn't actually quiet is, listening to music on my headphones, while I am working from home. I have two dogs who want my attention, but when I put on my headphones and listen to music, they let me be. I usually cry while I am doing this. Lately the pain in my back has been getting worse and despite my usual optimism, It wears me out. When I listen to music I allow myself the luxury of feeling sad. My art (dolls,) sit next to my desk on pedestals. Silent witnesses to my sorrow and my joy. Lots of little joys!
Sending love to you, Nadine. Glad to hear you're finding ways through the pain. ❤️
Thank you!
Crying is a very essential process and natural release, I'm glad you have space for this each day in good company. I feel you on the exhaustion of chronic pain. Sending you supportive energy :)
Thanks so much. I took a day off from work yesterday and just laid on my back in bed, for the majority of the day. I shut off my phone. It was so restorative I just let my thoughts meander without judging them, and accomplished little to nothing. Sorry if you suffer from chronic pain as well. Sending good vibes back to you!!
Thank you, and I'm so glad to hear it. A digital vacation is SO valuable :)
As a storyteller, sometimes writing at 5 or 6am. The absolute quiet in my hood in Harlem. Lifting my ballpoint pen with my left hand to paper to write a true story from my life, without censoring or judging—just allowing my creative process to “let her rip!”. It feels freeing and gives me a great beginning and always a joyful feeling, no matter if my story is happy or sad. I’m writing! Creating! And my heart is full of love and joy!
For years I swam for exercise. Soon, I hope, I can begin again. I miss the burn in my muscles, the blood thumping through my ears, the whole-body thrill of flying like a fish. But the memory that is powerful in my body is the expansive privacy of submersion. Before pushing off from the wall I plunge or gently lower my whole body beneath the surface - and hold. Air bubbles race for the seal of my swim cap, my ear canals and nostrils establish where my insides and the outside meet, the seal around my goggles either holds or doesn’t, and my lungs honor this non-native condition. I float just below the surface, listening with wonder - every time! - to the remote clicking, tapping, and splashing of other bodies pushing through water around me, or voices calling on the ledge around. I listen, too, to my breath and my blood, those twins of vitality taken for granted. When I look up the sky, or ceiling, wobbles and I let go of whatever it is I am holding from the dry, fixed land. Then I am ready, I push off, and in three strokes I take my first long, steady breath over my slender deltoid. Nothing silences me in my body like getting ready to fly like a fish.
This entire comment is beautiful but oh how I love “the expansive privacy of submersion.”
Thank you Holly :) I think of a similar feeling under a wide night sky when camping remotely, anytime I'm within something so vast, silent and compelling or humbling.
Gorgeous. ❤️
Thank you Suleika!
I love the cocoon effect of swimming too and you’ve expressed the sensation just wonderfully!
Thank you Paul! I hope you're able to get in the water regularly especially in these warmer months :)
"Fly like a fish." Love this image! Great response to the prompt. beautiful writing.
Thank you so much Ryder :) I'm sure there's lots more to explore with this image, it was a delight to see this one come through in the journaling process.
In 2001, a few of my siblings and I, along with our spouses, built a cabin in the mountains, to share. Over the years, two sisters decided that they wanted out, so my brother bought out one of them and my son bought out the other one. I decided to stay because the cabin has so many treasured memories for me. But it is also a place I can go to alone for complete solitude. I can be alone to resolve whatever is troubling me. Quite often it is family members. I eat what and when I want, sleep when I want and read, watch TV or go for walks. I even cry if I want without explaining to anyone what it is that is wrong. I pray as often as needed. I still enjoy being there with my husband and family members, but it is my go to place for serenity often too.
"I even cry if I want without explaining to anyone what it is that is wrong." This is important. ❤️
Dear Becky,
Thank you for sharing.
Sounds sublime.
With gratitude,
🙏
It's really important to have a place for crying, Becky. I get that.
Reading books. The view of my backyard garden from my kitchen windows. Walking in Prospect Park. Seeing a movie on the big screen of a movie theater, all by myself. My watercolor paintbox, and painting with them at my kitchen table. Completed paintings taped onto the hallway wall where I pass them coming into and leaving my house. The sacred act of preparing food.
Love to go to the movies alone and while others are at work! Fridays, I steal away early for a solo lunch date but I may have to introduce a meal and a movie to that schedule now!
"The sacred act of preparing food." Lovely.
This gives me fond memories of Prospect Park. I walked around there in between bouts of morning sickness with my first pregnancy. Visiting the local deli, the food coop. I love the visual of you painting and then walking past them every day in your hallway. 🙏🏽
First of all, I so love that photo of you, Suleika, on the couch with your sweet canine friend. And the paintings that adorn you are so beautiful, and exude that quietness and peace you're inviting us to share in today. Thank you for that.
I live in Washington state, and in the particular area where our home is, gigantic conifers surround us. There are wilderness trails that stretch for miles around and I often walk these every chance I get. There is one in particular that is exactly 2 miles long, and I used to walk with my beautiful dog who so loved this trail, but she died last September 11th, so now I walk it alone, but every time I do, I look for her, try to feel her energy. Because this is what we do. This is one way we remember and pay homage to those we have loved and who have graced our lives.
So many people it seems are grieving right now, for so many things, and not only someone who has died. But I think every single person alive is wrestling with some kind of force, something tearing at them that they can't work out alone. This is why this amazing journal is so valuable, too, Suleika. It provides a place where we can find community. That's been the one thing that has saved my sanity in the darkest of times.
I have a friend who is undergoing an 8 hour surgery on Tuesday at 7:15 am. Stomach cancer. They will be removing part of her stomach, and she will lose 20% of her body weight. She will have to sleep sitting up or at an angle for the rest of her life. She is scared out of her wits, has a toddler she desperately wants to live for, and a husband who must be half crazy by now. I wanted to put this out, so that if anyone has a prayer or meditation group, you might include thoughts of her. She will need all the help she can get.
Her name is Lara.
Thank you, all.
Sending love and strength to Lara and to you, Nancy. ❤️
Sending warmth to Lara, and Nancy.
I’m afraid that probably it’s not a timing for you and Lara to want to hear any practical information or any sort in such a difficult time… But, by reading her situation that she will have to sleep in a sitting position, I thought to share with you, that there is a thing called dream and sleep yoga, for which one actually practices sleeping sitting up in order to find clarity and peace while dreaming and sleeping. Sorry if this kind of information is totally irrelevant or even disturbing…
First and foremost, I pray for her successful surgery and healing.
I will pray for Lara. For wisdom for the doctors. I will pray her little one has strong angels around her/him. I will pray for you, too. For your strength and courage and faithfulness. Love,
Jacqueline
Sending blessings to Lara.
Sending Lara warm hugs and peaceful thoughts 🦋🦋🦋🦋
Life for me is all about imagining.
When you’ve had cancer, when you’ve faced the gruesome truth about your body’s ability to suffer, and the shocking reality about your mortality, you find comfort in positive imaginings, or you perish.
I live from day to day with a wish for stability, that time would stop. Please let my life stay as it is now.
Like this moment: A cold spring morning, a warming fire against the chill, sunlight glowing on the distant green hills, the tannic taste of perfectly brewed tea, the neat balls of yarn in a basket waiting to become my new sweater, my husband’s gentle snores coming from the bedroom, all telling me of the gifts in my life, letting me imagine a future that is only this.
And words—on the screen and floating around in my head. I imagine them built into something tangible, something I can read and marvel that I put them there, my own creation. Doing that gives me a sense of power, that I can rise above the threats and worries and find wonder in this scarred but still excellent life I’ve been given.
It is all good to travel, to leave this warm cocoon and be in the world, talking and laughing with friends, seeing all there is that exists beyond the confines of home. I won’t give that up.
But I’m most grateful for this gift of a quiet place, to knit and write and dream, to imagine how perfect my life could be if it only stayed like this moment.
This had me dreaming into the times that I have wished for time to stop. Those moments are so precious in memory. I'm so grateful to have survived to live them❤️
❤️❤️❤️
I loved this so much, Teri. How well you verbalized this desire to hold on to life!
I pray God grant you many, many more years of listening to your husband snore, of dreaming and knitting that dream into reality!
Thank you, that is so sweet! We need each other's affirmations to keep going.
I wish I could "like" this comment a thousand times, Teri. There have been so many times I wish time would stop. And then sometimes it seems to have actually done so. It's like you just want the whole world to stop, so you can kind of catch up to it, let it seep in, to get through the shock of what is happening to you. And I love the things you are noticing about everything around you. Those neat balls of yarn, your husband snoring in another room, the comfort of the fire and those distant green hills. I can see it all, and it's in these moments, these simple things become absolutely huge, and it seems like every single detail, regardless of how small, comes into penetrating relief. And the gratitude...that is refreshed every time we are experiencing a singular moment when everything seems to finally be in balance. That one feeling, gratitude. The best feeling there is.
I'm amazed when I write something that works--it's like I don't know how I did it--and I'm most grateful when it resonates with others. You have taken what I said and added to it so beautifully, and I thank you. ❤️
First of all, that POEM. It's ethereal. So many beautiful lines, I had to copy and print it to read and reread . Thank you for the gift of it, Suleika. Secondly, those jelly fish I see in the background, in your work are VERY cool. Thirdly, the moment from last week I want to hang onto was seeing my only child's face as she emerged from the fitting room in her brand new bridal dress, that is ready to be hemmed. "What do you think, Mama?" I could barely speak. And finally, I live in a quiet place on Cedar Ridge Farm, but life is emerging now, peepers, wax-wing cedars, meadow larks, blue birds are all waking up, and sounding off. The horses next door canter to the next spot of new green grass, hooves thumping the still hard ground, the fox cry out at night. Nature's voice only enhance the beauty of the natural quiet that surrounds me. It's a different kind of quiet. A seasonal kind of quite, I guess, and as you said, its a creative quite that inspires me this time off year.
I loved hearing these sounds through your writing. ❤️
Thank you, Sus. I love yours, too. We are so close in distance when you are out this way, we should have a peek at each other gardens and quiet places sometime soon.
Seeing my daughters in their wedding dresses was a happy time for me too! I have coyotes and owls serenading me as I go to sleep at night and I love their serenade. ❤️
It's the best, Jeannine. So wonderful you have multiple girls! And yes, coyote and barred owl are plentiful here, too, all year round. A virtual orchestra in the spring, tho. Yes?
The best lullaby ever🥰👍
You bet!
Any moment I have in nature to soak up the magic of my surroundings (which, for yesterday was a rocky climb around Ink Lake and the sea of wildflowers at every turn), but I also have to say that I love the quiet of these Sunday mornings. That first sip of coffee, being under my weighted blanket on the couch, the view outside is of a normally busy city (Austin) but right now, it too looks tranquil at this hour. Hubby still in bed, so I have the solitude to just read, ponder, reflect and dream
Ink Lake! What a name.
One of my quiet places is my small painting studio. Whenever i go there, i spend at least an hour without realizing the passing of time. I visit my other quiet place when i occasionally meditate. There, i always imagine either a cabin in the woods or a house overlooking the beach (i don't know where they are because whenever i wanna go deeper, i'm thrown out and can't continue meditating).