Quiet and Solitude

Is this the calm before the storm? The steam that condenses under the lid of a pot cover, that quietly builds and boils and forces the lid right off the top? The friction that eventually starts the fire. Or am I just bored?

I sort of gave up on Craigslist. It seems I gave up on work altogether. Or regular work. Conventional work. I had this moment at the park where I decided to not be a robot. A thwack on the forehead reminded me why I liked myself so much on my travels.  Because every moment I got to write my own story.

So why can’t I do that here? True, somedays I fall into lethargy. True, I cook things for no reason, when I’m not hungry and no one is home, just because I like to. True, my room is an absolute mess….but THAT is nothing new.

But every day there is yoga. I work on the weekends, at a Brazilian restaurant owned by Mister Wong. A Chinese man who knows nothing about the restaurant business. An owner of a depanneur who made a bad investment and is now stuck with a Spanish speaking staff in a French speaking province. I stay after my shift for a few minutes to listen to him vent his frustrations and to gently coach him on things that might make the restaurant run more smoothly. Or make him feel understood.

My weekdays are quiet. Repetitive. Green smoothie and brown rice with mung beans for breakfast. And then its all downhill from there….

And yet, I suppose its better that I have left all this time for yoga. Because it looks like I’m going to get paid for this. I am slowly making my way onto the schedule at the studio, and I was offered a chance to teach private lessons to ten ladies at a tennis club out in Knowlton, Quebec. They are ecstatic to have me. And my self-esteem won’t allow myself to take the praise.

Despite, or even still, the quiet and the ALONE start to reverberate after a while. When you think that you’d “better not go out dressed like such a slob” because “my breath smells like onions” only to realize that you don’t have anyone to dress up for anyways, you’re only coming home to eat that pizza and drink the bottle of wine by yourself.

You know when you have those days? Those days when you wake up and its already raining? The pattering of falling water drowns out the sound of the alarm and the stoney greyness has already seeped under your still-closed eyelids and you splash water on your face because you know: it’s going to be a wet one.

Perhaps the rain has washed off a layer or two of your epidermis, because your nerves are exposed—you FEEL things today. Happy things. sad things. quiet things. You take your newspaper out to brunch and pretend that its a self-indulgent-spoil-myself-independent-thing that singles do, but today you’d actually prefer a friend.

Don’t get me wrong. I have friends. They just all seem to be busy with other important things.

So I allow quiet and alone to reverberate. I try to tune myself into the empty space, to simultaneously vibrate, knowing that it will only build in duration and frequency. That pressure and containment will result in explosion.

One day I will shatter glass.

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