It's been a crazy year in the Haines house, and as some of you may know, we're in for another round of medical testing for Titus, which may or may not yield any new answers. Things feel heavier again, and that's okay. I'm not trying to dampen anyone's spirits here. We're grateful for the possibilities. In light of the heavy, I'm coming to grips with the fact that perhaps my coping mechanisms are all out of whack. Perhaps I've turned to addiction, to ego, to material, or to any other distraction in an effort to avoid the mysteries of this awkward human experience. Isn't that the crux of being alive?
In that vein, I've been wrestling with this space of online writing. I'm trying to sort it out. Why am I here? Why do I keep typing away? So much has been said, so much of it good by so many good people. Do I need to keep pecking?
Who knows. But here's what I do know--it's time to be quiet, to try and stretch beyond the limitations of the finite known and into something else. What? Maybe Rumi's quietness?
Inside this new love, die. Your way begins on the other side. Become the sky. Take an ax to the prison wall. Escape. Walk out like someone suddenly born into color. Do it now. You're covered with thick cloud. Slide out the side. Die, and be quiet. Quietness is the surest sign that you've died. Your old life was a frantic running from silence.
I'm going to disappear for a while. Why? Maybe I'm trying to be reborn into color. I'm leaving this space, Facebook, Twitter and the like for a bit. Perhaps a month. Perhaps longer. I'm getting rid of the pressure to churn out creative grammar, of story construction, of thought deconstruction. I'm hoping to burn down some things, and maybe recover some others.
Recovery is also an awkward process. I reckon if I'm going to try to recover, I might as well recenter on the right thing.
And yes, I'll keep writing my psalms, but I'll be jotting them in a notebook with a pencil. I'll be writing other things, too. Journal entries. Letters, maybe.
Anyway, enough of all of this. For now, let me just leave you with this: I'll miss those of you who hang around these parts, but I'll see you when I see you.