I Cannot Find The Silence

I cannot come up with one decent thing to write about -- across the board. I cannot focus on anything long enough to come up with enough coherent thoughts that interest even me, let alone anyone else.

I find myself running around during the day, shopping! I do need a few things and it is difficult to find them due to my pickiness and the need to be frugal, but I think it is more than that. Frenetic activity is usually a way to avoid thinking, or feeling, or some sort of internal work that needs to be done. I'm sure that is the case here.

My mind is crowded with useless thoughts, but letting them go seems to be impossible. I went to the park today and walked Chauncey, then I sat down under a huge walnut tree facing the pond. Four crows got into a tiff above me and knocked down a stick nearly an inch and a half thick and over a foot long. A single goose swam from one side to the other and a car filled with children parked across the street and got out to walk. I tried to read, but my mind kept wandering. I tried to let go of all my thoughts and sink into the space between my own breaths. Nothing worked. I am simply obsessing over nothing!

Chauncey sat stone still, facing the water and looking like the little lion dogs at Allerton House. If I were to look like my thoughts I would be a French Harlequin,or more pointedly Arlecchino, zig zagging around. Time is eternal. What feels like an hour, turns out to be ten minutes.

I am not sleeping. I keep forgetting to eat, thinking I will do it soon, or already did it. I am not myself, but I can hardly be anyone else.

I don't know what to do, so I just keep doing what I've always done, hoping that eventually it will work. I connect with people when I can, continue to try writing and make vain attempts to read.

I am so tired, I think I'll try to go to sleep, but to sleep really is to dream and my dreams are chaotic. In them I keep finding myself moving in somewhere only to discover I took too long and the boxes I sent ahead are filled with half dead birds and tiny puppies all curled up and cute, but impossible to keep track of. I wake up exhausted.

I cannot find the silence.