Friday, January 23, 2015

A Wise Old Owl

A wise old owl sat on an oak; 
The more he saw the less he spoke;
The less he spoke the more he heard;
Why aren't we like that wise old bird? 

I admit I have been reclusive these past couple of months. It may sound like a bad thing but it honestly has been necessary and positive for me. I have been finding that my chosen solitude has given me a certain peaceful and beautiful tunnel I can slip into which has allowed me to step out of the bright and uncomfortable spotlight the accident had put on us and into the much needed privacy I have been craving so I can slow it down, take in more, and somehow find my way back to myself; the person I was and so desperately want to be again. 
So, why am I quoting about birds and drawing them, you ask!?! Well, simply said, I am the owl in the drawing  and the poem. That is who I am and what I need to be because wrapping myself in words and feeding my creativity makes my soul sing. As I have written before about my passion for Art, I know I  need poetry and I need to draw to keep myself centered and focused and why I took such a long hiatus from both is beyond me. 
However, like an old friend, nothing had changed and the comfort and familiarity I felt again has been so fulfilling to me. My pencil swept the page and the words flowed out just like they always did and will continue to do. 
And, so, my healing begins....I have spent months working diligently to heal my family and I painfully realized this bottomless and heavy pit I have been carrying around for months is because I have made no solid attempt to heal myself.
As the dust begins to clear and the lights begin to dim, you start to realize the undeniable depth of pain and uncertainty that an unexpected and tragic event leaves within you, and, let me tell ya, they are such deep and nasty wounds like no other! Now, the really tricky part in our situation, though, is that you can't see these wounds but you can certainly feel them and that is where we have been trapped as a family by not properly dealing with these wounds left by the accident and brain injuries. I have learned to call this damage the invisible disease. You can't see it but it is definitely in there causing havoc to its victims and their loved ones. Even though two of my family members were injured, it has left, what feels like sometimes, an irreversible damage, on all of us, The anger, even rage, impulsiveness, impatience, confusion, impairment, distance, isolation, and just plain overall destruction I have watched unfold has been heartbreaking but I have refused to let us give up. Instead of getting or letting anyone get consumed by it, I have learned to be the wise old owl. I sit on an oak and the more I have seen the less it has made me want to speak, hence the solitude.  Then, I, surprisingly, found a little clarity from the silence and it is amazing what you can hear when you don't speak, so to say. That cold silence has led me to a warmth of empathy, encouragement, and strength which has enabled me to continue to heal my family and myself. 
As a result, we have begun to talk more and the words are more constructive, we have begun to let go of the negativity whether it be someone or something that is preventing the healing, and we are still seeking to find our way back to whatever our normalcy will be but we are doing it now without setting unrealistic expectations or time lines on ourselves. There is music, chess, exercise, travel, books, and sketchpads easing its way softly back into us again and there is a feeling of a gentle guidance leading us back to peace as a family.
One day at a time is serving us well....For me, today, I will stay on the oak, and continue to listen and hear the words and fill the sketchpad and feed the soul and find my way....then, breathe deeply, and start again tomorrow with the same hopes and wonder why we aren't all like that wise old bird?

Owl drawing - by Me :)
Owl quote by poet, Edward Hersey Richards