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This Phoenix Speaks

Seven years in the making, my first published book, This Phoenix Speaks , is now a reality. The tireless and tiring work invested to ma...


a mess

Silence is a funny thing. It creates space yet invites noise. It invites the mind to fill the space, and then next thing you know, you've got noise again—crowding out the quiet.

At least that's how my mind works.

I wish it weren't so, but that is the truth.

As I pondered what to write all the week long (after realizing I missed writing last week), I had many ideas. But I didn't take the time to write any of them down; therefore, they are gone. I lost them to the noise or maybe the silence. I'm not quite sure which is to blame. I have too much going on right now to even worry about which one.

All I know is I dropped the ball on one of my favorite things to do, and here I am wanting to write something worthwhile, and all I have are these abstractions to ponder and let sink in so deep that maybe writing them down makes them worthwhile for my future self—reminding her that nobody is perfect and everything will all work out somehow. Just like this slice.


  1. Lost to the noise, or the silence. I know just how you feel.

  2. Your post reminded me of my most memorable noise-silence experience. We were on a day hike in Deschutes National Forest. At first I found the silence deafening, it almost hurt my ears. But then after time, beyond that silence I heard the wilderness. Thanks for sharing; I'm pondering your abstractions and thinking of my literal experience and of its reflection in figurative ways.


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