THE INKWELL SOUL

Tag: #peace

  • The Glass Partition

    “The tension between needing solitude and wanting to be seen is like standing behind a one-way mirror: I feel protected because I can see out but no one can see in, yet I find myself pressing my palm against the glass, hoping someone notices the smudge I left behind.”

    It is the “Solitude Paradox” – the fear that being known will ruin your peace, combined with the fear that staying hidden will eventually erase you.

    I am the architect of my own island, I’ve dredged the sand and raised the cliffs until the horizon is nothing but my own reflection. There is a profound mercy in this distance; no one can misread my silence here, no one can clumsy-foot through the garden of my grief. Here, I am the Queen of a quiet country, uninterrupted, unburdened, and untouched.

    But the walls that keep the storm out also keep the warmth from coming in.

    I sit by the window of my own making, watching the world move in blurred streaks of color, and a treacherous thought begins to bloom: Does anyone see the light left on in this room? I want to be discovered, but I don’t want to be hunted. I want someone to find the secret door, but I’m terrified of what happens when the hinges creak open and the dust of my decades is exposed to the air.

    It is an exhausting dance – to pull the blanket of anonymity over my head while secretly praying someone notices the shape I make beneath the covers. I want to be “seen” without having to explain, to be understood without the autopsy of conversation. I am waiting for a ghost who speaks my language, someone who knows that when I say “I need to be alone,” what I am really saying is, “Please stay close enough to hear me if I change my mind.”

    Bravely, I am admitting I want to be “found” while I am actively hiding. It is not a contradiction; it’s a search for a very specific kind of safety – the safety of being truly known by someone who won’t try to “fix” the solitude out of me.

  • A Poem: With Quiet Sound

    • A Shadow stands where a friend once stood, Casting lies in a neighborhood. Each shouted word, a stone to throw, A garden of rumors where nothing can grow.
    • My quiet life is now a stage, For someone else’s bitter rage. I stand and watch a story told, A twisted tale, careless and cold.
    • Each day, a promise, a held-in breath, Waiting for the shout of death – The next cruel lie, the public claim, To tarnish a long-held, trusted name.
    • But my truth is not a thing to buy, Nor one to win with a crafted lie. It lives in my heart, in my quiet grace, A sanctuary in this frantic space.
    • I yearn for peace, a simple ease, A life unburdened by this disease. To live and love, and not to fear, The shadow that follows year after year.
    • For this peace, I’ll stand my ground, Not with noise, but with quiet sound. My voice is a wish, a hope, a plea, For the quiet life that waits for me.

    The Power of “Quiet Sound”

    The “quiet sound” is the sound of your character. It’s the truth that echoes in the hearts of those who know you, not because you’ve announced it with a megaphone, but because you live it. It is the integrity that shines through your actions, the kindness you show, and the grace with which you carry yourself. This sound doesn’t need a stage or an audience; it resonates in the small, meaningful moments of your life. It is the peace you cultivate, the strength you find in silence, and the resilience that doesn’t need to explain itself.

    It’s the unspoken understanding among your friends and family. It’s the confidence that comes from knowing who you are, regardless of what others say you are. This is a sound that cannot be slandered, because it is not based on words, but on your very being.

    This concept can be a beautiful and empowering way to frame your experience. It’s not about being passive; it’s about being powerful in a different way. It’s about choosing not to engage in a noisy battle, but instead to let your life be your loudest statement.

  • Embracing the Buffalo: Strength in the Storm

    The cancer journey often feels like being caught in an endless storm – a relentless blizzard of appointments, tough treatments, and emotional turbulence. It’s natural, even human, to want to hunker down, turn away, or simply endure the cold and wait for it to pass.

    But a new friend Craig G. offered a different, more powerful path: the path of the buffalo.

    He sent me the message: “The Buffalo is the only animal that does not hunker down to ride out a storm or endure a blizzard. It walks or runs straight into a storm. Just like charging headlong into a cancer diagnosis and treatment. Be the Buffalo!”

    This image of the magnificent creature, head lowered and deliberately walking or running straight into the heart of the storm, is a striking metaphor for how I now choose to meet this challenge. Craig’s analogy reminds me that the buffalo’s strategy is one of pure, forward-moving efficiency. By charging directly toward the storm’s center, they pass through if faster, minimizing the time they spend exposed to the worst of the elements. They know the quickest way to the calm on the other side is a direct line.

    My Commitment to Be the Buffalo

    To “Be the buffalo” in my cancer journey is to harness this unique, fierce strength. It’s not about ignoring the fear or pretending this isn’t difficult; it’s about accepting the diagnosis and treatment as my current reality and choosing forward motion through it.

    *Acknowledge and Advance: Instead of feeling paralyzed, I am choosing to walk straight into the treatment plan, the tough conversations, and the emotional work required. This is me lowering my head and taking the first step.

    *Efficiency in Courage: Every challenging appointment, every difficult recovery day is a step through the storm. By meeting these challenges head-on, I am actively moving toward the finish line, refusing to be stalled by fear or avoidance.

    *Focus on the Goal: The buffalo’s goal isn’t to fight the storm itself – it’s to reach the clear, sunny pasture that lies beyond. My goal is the healthy, peaceful future I am fighting for. Keeping my eyes focused on that “calm after the storm” gives me the purpose to push through the present difficulty.

    I am pulling on the power of this buffalo image that Craig shared. It reminds me that the fastest, most courageous way through this difficult time is straight ahead. I have already taken the first steps, and with every subsequent one, I am proving that I possess that unwavering incredible strength.

  • Mornings

    I enjoy early mornings. The fact that I was given another day to live is always a blessing. My mornings are a time where I reflect on my life’s experiences. Memories play out in my mind. As I sip my coffee I enjoy its bold flavor…warming me as it travels down to my stomach. The kitties come over to me to say good morning, one by one. A smile crosses my lips… so soft… such innocent little creatures. My ears perk up as I hear the dog sleeping under the table next to me. He has the cutest little snore. The birds are happily chirping outside… building nests, feeding babies and gossiping I am sure! I breathe. Just being in the moment is a blessing. As I take it all in, a little smile crosses my face. My shoulders relax and I … just … am. This is peace. This is hope. This is love.

    Mornings Embrace The quiet arrives with the dawn, another day, a whispered gift, I settle, coffee’s dark richness a warmth spreading inside. Memories unfold, a gentle film of a life lived, played out in the soft light. One by one, cats greet the new day, their small bodies brushing mine, innocence in their purrs, a smile blossoming on my face. Beneath the table, a soft, rhythmic snore from the dog, a comforting hum. Outside, the birds begin their chorus – chirping, building, nurturing, their secrets carried on the breeze. A deep breath in, a quiet exhale. Just in the moment. This stillness. Shoulders release their hold. A simple being. This is peace. This is hope. This is love.

  • The In-Between Space

    The world shimmered, not with visual distortion, but with an unseen energy that pulsed beneath the surface of things. I existed in that shimmering, that liminal space between knowledge and feeling, where the mind’s sharp edges blurred into the raw, untamed landscape of the heart.

    It was a primal intimacy, a conversation whispered between my soul and the rustling leaves, the murmuring stream, the sigh of the wind. The oak tree in my backyard wasn’t just an oak tree; it was a stoic guardian, its roots anchoring deep into the earth, mirroring my own yearning for stability. The rain wasn’t merely precipitation; it was a symphony of release, each drop a tiny drumbeat echoing the rhythm of my own tears.

    My emotions weren’t simply internal states; they were living entities, swirling around me like a kaleidoscope of butterflies, each one a fleeting expression of the world’s vibrant pulse. Joy wasn’t just a feeling; it was the sun warming my skin, the laughter of children echoing in the park, the sweet taste of a ripe strawberry bursting on my tongue. Grief wasn’t an abstract concept; it was the hallow ache in my chest, the weight of unshed tears, the lingering scent of rain on dry earth.

    This in-between space was where I truly lived, where the boundaries between self and other dissolved. I felt the heartbeat of the earth beneath my feet, the ancient wisdom of the mountains etched upon my soul. The whispers of the wind carried secrets, and the rustling leaves sang lullabies that soothed my restless spirit.

    It wasn’t always easy, this dance between knowing and feeling. The mind, with its insatiable hunger for logic and order, often struggled to reconcile with the heart’s wild untamed nature. But I had learned to navigate this terrain, to find a delicate balance between the two.

    In the quiet moments, when the world was hushed and still, I would close my eyes and listen. I would listen to the symphony of my own emotions, the whispers of the wind, the rustling of leaves, the steady beat of my own heart. And in that listening, I found a profound sense of peace, a connection to something larger than myself.

    This was my reality, a tapestry woven from the threads of knowledge and feeling, a world where the boundaries between self and other blurred, where emotions danced like fireflies in the twilight, and where the whispers of the wind carried the secrets of the universe. It was a world of primal intimacy, where I lived and breathed and felt the pulse of life in every fiber of my being.

  • You’re Beginning to Understand

    “You’re beginning to understand, aren’t you? That the whole world is inside you: in your perspectives and in your heart. That to be able to find peace, you must be at peace with yourself first; and once you learn how to master this, you will be protected from everything that makes you feel like you can not go on, that with this gift of recognizing yourself, even when you are alone, you will never be lonely.”

    “You’re beginning to understand, aren’t you?” The words, posed as a question, feel more like a gentle affirmation, a quiet recognition of a truth slowly dawning within. It’s a truth about the self, about the intricate connection between inner peace and outer experience.

    The world, it’s not “out there”, separate and distinct from me. It’s not something that happens to me, but rather something I carry within me, a landscape shaped by my perceptions, colored by my emotions, defined by the stories I tell myself about who I am and my place in the universe. It’s a profound realization, this understanding that I am the architect of my own reality, the curator of my inner world.

    To find peace, the quote suggests, I must first be at peace with myself. Not the idealized self I sometimes aspire to be, but the real, flawed, beautifully imperfect self that I am in the moment. It’s about accepting my strengths and weaknesses, my joys and sorrows, my light and my shadow, and recognizing that they are all integral parts of the intricate tapestry of my being. It’s about self-compassion, forgiveness, and embracing the journey of self-discovery with curiosity and kindness.

    And to truly enjoy life, I must enjoy who I am. This feels like a radical act in a world that constantly bombards us with messages of inadequacy, urging us to strive for an ever-elusive “better” version of ourselves. But the truth is, joy cannot be found in the pursuit of perfection; it blossoms in the fertile ground of self-acceptance. It’s about celebrating my unique gifts, honoring my authentic voice, and finding delight in the simple fact of my existence.

    Mastering this, the quote promises, will be a form of protection. Not a shield against external challenges, but an inner strength, a resilience that allows me to navigate the inevitable storms of life without being completely destroyed. When I know who I am, when I accept and love myself unconditionally, I am anchored. I can weather the criticisms, the setbacks, the disappointments, because my sense of worth comes from within, not from external validation.

    The most powerful promise lies in the final words: “even when you are alone, you will never be lonely.” Loneliness, in its deepest sense, is a feeling of disconnection, a sense of being separate from myself and the world around me. But when I recognize that the whole world resides within me, when I cultivate a deep and loving relationship with myself, I am never truly alone. I carry within me a source of infinite companionship, a wellspring of creativity, resilience, and love.

    This isn’t just about solitude; it’s about finding solace in my own company, about recognizing my inherent worth, about understanding that I am enough. It’s about coming home to myself, embracing all the facets of my being, and discovering that within this inner landscape lies a peace that transcends circumstance, a joy that radiates from within, and a love that never fades. It’s about understanding that I am the world, and in that understanding, finding a profound and unshakeable sense of belonging.