Words Fail Me...

by Florence Ondré


Do you remember the saying, “Silence is golden; let’s make a million?”
Ever have one of those days where, no matter what the issue or moment; you can’t catch a break to save yourself?
Every little detail turns into a tangle; every proverbial molehill, a mountain. Even typing on your keyboard turns dyslexic or into a two-left-handed, fumble-fingers festival. (No disrespect, Lefties.)
Words have to get pulled out of your brain like Dumbledore’s wand pulling taffy-like threads of thought from your head; when memory banks send you the not too tightly coded message, “your account is overdrawn;” that’s when it might be time to stop.
Stop talking. Stop doing. Stop trying to figure it all out. Stop thinking altogether.
It’s not working anyway.
Well, this is one of those days for me and I’m noticing how much I want to accomplish while the Gods are throwing down concrete blocks in my path like it’s raining stop signs.
When omens are obvious that you're not going to get anywhere tripping over your own flip flops, who needs an eight ball to get the message, “Signs say doubtful?”
And still the energizer bunny in my hamster cage mind is going, going, going.
Got to get something written, have to get bug strips for the fruit fly invasion, should trim those hedges, want to organize the photo files, need to buy tin foil, must get toilet tissue, ought to purchase more stamps, want to return those phone calls. All of which are geared to set me up for the coulda, woulda, shoulda regretfest.
The list goes on long enough to occupy me entirely, like being laid out like a latke in an MRI session. Claustrophobia doesn’t stand a chance with me in that tunnel. Who has time to be scared? I’ve got my lists to contemplate. Going over them in my cranium and the next thing I hear after the tech has said, “Hold completely still, please,” is “OK, all done!” as they filch me out of the tube of magnetic resonance.
So much for my friend’s suggestion to ‘just let go and meditate; take advantage of the silence; just be.’
Now, here I am in this day, getting bombarded with every possible indicator that there will be no answers; no words out of my mouth or actions I may wish to take that will make a dent in the invisible duty roster or solve the challenges in my home, work or the world.
Balls are being dropped. Words won’t willingly come forth. Why grumble or grouse about it?
Might as well heed the call. Let go. Opt for some peace maybe.
This is not my wisdom face; sage, spiritual and serene.
I’m just too tired to argue.
It’s that kind of day. Silence sounds good.
And as I make this choice, rain begins to softly fall, hushing all.