And so I am back.
Now, it is an impetus for me to write - not as much for you to read. So, if you are reading this, and find it very dull, don't feel the obligation to stick around and read anymore. I cannot promise it won't get duller. Sometimes, my fear of being dull has kept me from this place. And I fear that my monotony in life - or, if I'm honest, my peace - will make me a drudgery. Happiness has its numbing effects. As Emily Dickinson wrote, "I can wade grief/ Whole pools of it - /I'm used to that./ But the least push of joy/ Breaks up my feet,/ And I tip - drunken." It's in trial that so often we become sharply aware of everything - awakened to the richness and poverty around us, able to articulate with greater clarity what we feel and need and hope and grieve and pine for. But with happiness - in simple stillness - there sometimes grows stagnation. Perhaps I have grown stagnant. I hope not. But if I have, well - I suppose few will linger on to see much of it.