The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.
I had a really tough time coming to the page tonight (and yesterday). A tornado of thoughts and emotions are swirling around in my mind and heart. And while I’ve always thought myself more of a fiction writer than an essayist, writers write, right? So here I am with my words tumbling and stumbling along like a diaspore waiting for the wind to disperse its seeds so they can take root and grow.
I have to trust that somewhere, at the end of this, a purpose will present itself. What is life without meaning? I still haven’t found mine, but I’m trusting in the process.
My soul is heavy with injustices I can’t counter and false blames I can’t deflect. It’s times like these that I want to run off into the woods, away from people, away from the sorrows and trials of my everyday. I want to be someplace that feels real and honest.
Sky. Trees. Quiet. Stars.
The rich smell of damp earth.
Mountains that make me feel small.
When I dream of a simple life, I dream of these things.
The world is too much with me. These days I can’t take a step without sinking knee-deep into a pothole. Is this what Wordsworth meant? Of course it is. He saw this coming more than 200 years ago. I’m just personalizing it. For this, for everything, we are out of tune…
I want to walk quietly and gently through this world. There’s too much shouting to hear inside my own head, and too many distractions to remember what’s real. That flickering light on the TV screen and the screeching of brakes–that’s a different kind of real.
How do I change this? How do I find the silence in the chaos of everyday? I’ve tried deep breathing and meditation, acupuncture and exercise, drumming and surrendering myself to a higher power and more, but nothing lasts.
I’ve been asking these questions for 20 years and I may have to learn to be content with the only answers I’ve ever received. A breath of wind against my cheek. A sudden storm as I start to cry.