Yet to Come

Trees, in Italy

Voice as a creative concept feels worn out and tired to me. As my partner Dave often says about so many things that garner too much attention at the expense of other more valuable concerns, we are overinvested in that idea.

But that does leave me without easy words to describe what this year has been for me. Because I have had, in the realm of both words and visuals, a voiceless year. And since my Year of Altered Vision is not over yet, it is not yet possible to grasp the totality of this experience with clarity and context. I will leave that overview for later, for the day when my eyesight really has (fingers crossed) returned to normal. It’s like climbing a mountain for a view. You get inklings on the way, but the optimal spot is yet to come.

Many friends have asked me when I will start writing on Slow Muse again. I am not sure how to answer that question. Between intention and action there is an indeterminate gap. Whatever it was that inspired my writing here for 12 years is now going through a transmutation of its own. I have had to be in surrender and to patiently wait for the what and the when to manifest.

I am in Italy for two weeks with my daughter and to celebrate the wedding of a dear friend. Italy has a long history of being where you go to be healed by its light, beauty and way of life. Sign me up!