digging in

i've been finding it hard to communicate these past few days, in words anyway. i think it's because words have been about all i've been able to communicate with here so far. other forms that typically work for me--touch, long eye contact, an energetic comfort that accompanies being with a person you know well--all these things are absent these days. it takes a bit of time to come to that level of communication with other people. but i'm getting tired of words. i want a hug. i want a kiss. i want someone to hold my hand and gaze at me with kind, compassionate eyes. i want to feel warmth coming from another being. maybe that's why i've enjoyed the company of dogs so much lately.

i'm tired of talking, and i'm tired of hearing myself say the same things over and over again. i'm tired of trying to explain how i feel. i just want to experience all of it in a dynamic form that exceeds words. i want to share all this without speaking so much. i want to talk like bees.

i'm too eager. i have no patience. a community of bees hibernates in the winter. so, with the threat of more snow tonight, i find myself wanting to crawl into a cave and wait until spring comes in and shakes my shoulders and begs me to come out and play....and by spring i mean life. i want it to want me to be here.

the thing is, somehow, i chose to be here, alive on earth, in durango. it shouldn't matter if it wants me to be here or not.

except it does. because i don't know how to make decisions by myself. i don't know how i exist if not in the context of something else. i can't stand the thought of actually being alone.

so, regardless of how tired i am of talking, i talk--to my co-workers, to my housemates, to the animals, to the trees, on the phone, in a letter, via email, or even through this blog, so i don't have to hear myself think. because i might find out that i think i am, indeed, very, very alone.