The Stranger

I recently had an intriguing interchange with a stranger.

First let me say, I love talking to strangers. I talk to them in the grocery store while I am picking out my produce. I talk to them while I am waiting on the interminably long deli line each week. And I will start conversations with them when I am out walking. I don’t apologize for my boldness. I am cohabiting this earth with others, and I would like to get to know them. Besides, strangers are only strangers until you get to know them.

So the other day at work, I was minding my own business. It was Friday afternoon around 3:00, and I was trying to finish up some tasks so I could actually leave for home at a reasonable time. My phone buzzed, and I received a text message from a number I didn’t recognize. “All done. When I get to better service, I’ll send a pic……” The number was from my mother’s area code—the area code in which I grew up and still have a friend or two.

Maybe it’s someone I know, I reasoned. I decided to wait and see if the person texted me again. I put my phone back on my desk, and I promptly forgot about it.

Nearly two hours later, my phone buzzed again. This time, my screen displayed a picture of a white horse, his nose in a feedbag. “This is how he was waiting for me,” the message read. The picture made it very clear that the texter was not someone I knew. Though I felt pulled to hear the story of the horse.

“Cute picture,” I texted back. “But I think you might be texting the wrong person,” I informed the stranger.

“Oops. Thanks for resending… glad I made you smile.”

Now, don’t get me wrong. There is a part of me that wanted to keep texting. To probe deeper. To find out about this random stranger who texted me at quitting time on a Friday afternoon. To tell her about the coincidence of the area code. To find out about the horse. And to make her smile, too. There is a part of me that longed to make that connection.

Because a stranger is only a stranger until you get to know her.

Then she is a friend.

{Photo by Nikki Jeffrey on Unsplash}

Silence

I have been sitting with the silence that many creative types (artists, writers, inventors) face at some point. This is the silence in which ideas don’t come. Silence can be frightening. Or silence can be an opportunity.

I will admit that I have likely played a role in this silence as I fill my days with a job that is demanding and draws on much of my energy—both physical and emotional. I have been implementing new programs, rethinking the way things are done, and pouring energy into helping students adjust to college.

So lately, ideas come and flit in my mind like a butterfly that lights ever so briefly on a flower or plant. But by the time I turn my attention fully to capture the idea, it is gone. And if it lingers, when I focus to put it on paper, it slowly fades until I can no longer see it, and it disappears.

But silence is a powerful teacher. By sitting with the silence, I am learning more about myself. About who I am, and about what truly moves me and drives me on. Something within me is beginning to emerge, playing with the edges of my conscious brain, but staying just within the boundaries of my subconscious.

As I sit in the silence, the ideas are starting to work their way into the space that I am holding for them. Today, two ideas came to me and stayed long enough to be held, turned, examined, and fleshed out—at least vaguely.

As I sit in the silence, I am hopeful for the future. I have reevaluated where I am and where I want to be. This particular period of silence has been deafeningly loud and longer than I would have liked. But now, I am ready for the ideas to come. I am ready to take the lessons of silence and turn them into something beautiful. I am ready for the sweet music of the muse.

Recharging

I am having difficulty writing these days. I don’t know where I’m stuck, but my mind will focus just long enough for me to have an idea and to think it is going to result in a blog post. But when I am part way through the writing, the idea fizzles, and I can’t figure out what it is I thought I would say. Or I’m distracted and end up a thousand miles away. Or perhaps… I have lost the magic.

Admittedly, I have been busy. The start of the school year has kept my mind moving a million miles a minute, or thereabouts. And long days of training students and prepping classes have kept me away from home and far from my computer.

Sometimes, we just need to take the time to work on finding balance and regaining our footing. So I am putting this here as a place holder to say, “I’m working on it.”

And I am. I am brainstorming and freewriting, doodling and walking. And I am staring at maps and asking for directions to help me find my way.

Before long, I will be back. The ideas will flow, and I will have direction. With any luck, my writing will be better than ever. Because the fact is I haven’t lost the magic. I am simply recharging my magic wand.

{Photo by Cristofer Jeschke on Unsplash}