"I got up and told him I'd made my decision, it would be better this way, and the silent ghost, for the first time, was the sound of a bad pull across a violin."
He's been around, muffled, but there was still something off, something muting that indicated he was there.
And then I set him free. I don't know if he was there immediately, or if he just took the time to breathe for a while.
But the next day, he was there, full throttle.
He's not a tricksie ghost like the ghost at the Ox, and you don't see him... you feel him. He emotional guides you. And he was there. And so rattled, I walked to class on the verge of tears just from sitting with him blankly mere moments. I was shaken at almost my worst, and I got into my classroom and thought "This is what people look like when people say 'You look like you've just seen a ghost.'" Because I had. And all I could do was take out a pen, and feverishly, I wrote this:
He's been around, muffled, but there was still something off, something muting that indicated he was there.
And then I set him free. I don't know if he was there immediately, or if he just took the time to breathe for a while.
But the next day, he was there, full throttle.
He's not a tricksie ghost like the ghost at the Ox, and you don't see him... you feel him. He emotional guides you. And he was there. And so rattled, I walked to class on the verge of tears just from sitting with him blankly mere moments. I was shaken at almost my worst, and I got into my classroom and thought "This is what people look like when people say 'You look like you've just seen a ghost.'" Because I had. And all I could do was take out a pen, and feverishly, I wrote this:
"I have a ghost. I don't know if he's in my house or just attached to me, but today, he's made it clear- I have a ghost.
It was like that part of Phantom of the opera, when they pull the cover off the chandelier and everything goes color as it lifts, cue that organ music... except it was the opposite- everything went sepia, still, silent.
When I first unknowingly unleashed him it wasn't this way- it was liberating, it was new life- it was something I couldn't quite put my finger on.
But now, it's impossible to not notice. It's a part of the room, a place, where everything goes muffled. Thoughts, emotions, real sound... all becomes gentle, calm, quiet when passed through this place. It's that day in elementary school when they hold a minute of silence in memory of Dr. Seuss... the first moment an innocent heart and mind ponders something both beautiful and sad, and above all, profound. Every time I pass through this place is that minute of silence.
I don't know for sure what this is about, but why would he silence me, and everything, unless there's something to hear, to feel? What does he want me to hear?"
So I decided he was trying to make me hear something, but what was I listening for? Was he going to tell me something? Was I missing something?
And then today, something happened. Something that had a consequence I need to deal with, and it's kind of a big deal, and a big decision, whichever way I want to go.
There is a huge amount of opportunity available, but it might seem unsavory? Rash? I wanted the opportunity so badly, I thought. The whole way home I made a list of pros and cons. And then, I walked in the door, set my bag on the couch, and promised him we'd talk about it, honestly, and all my feelings and all my doubts. I sat down and he held me.
Right, so I have to make a huge decision... and I did it in a 30 minute talk... with a ghost? My life is not average.
Well, we talked about how rash it was, how disapproving people might be, but at the same time how supportive everyone is. We discussed the responsibilities involved, the losses, the gains, the risks. Was this level-headed? So we let go of what everyone would think was the issue and weighed the situation without the variable. Either route seemed about even. Probably neck and neck. Except, of course, that one would receive judgment, maybe. Ouch.
I got up and told him I'd made my decision, it would be better this way, and the silent ghost, for the first time, was the sound of a bad pull across a violin.
"I haven't heard it yet, huh? I'm still not listening for the right thing."
Okay. So I sat back down, and I tried to be as quiet in every way as I could be. And I heard the birds... summertime, memories. I smiled but knew this wasn't it, we'd already been over where this was leading. Then, I listened to my heart, my real heart, all of it. And first I listened to those parts everyone does, the love ones, the people. But this wasn't it, I already knew, so I suppressed everything that he considered distracting, too. After all, there is more to my heart, to any heart. I asked myself what did I want, my heart, what was it missing, why was it empty, quiet, muted like my ghost. There had already been scissors taken to my covering, the staples ripped out to unveil this quiet heart. I was already exposed, it was just me, no faded facade. And what am I? What do I do, where do I go, what are my undying aspirations, what makes the sound? And I heard a sound, a bit like a rattlesnake, a little like a hyrax. It was Rhianna and T.I. It was like the wind instrument in Shakira music, it was hispanic guitars and languages I don't understand in chants.
"I hear, in my heart, adventure."
And I sat up. I'd ignore any opposition. I said it again, out loud, "My heart wants an adventure," I insisted, overpowering any protest that might be erupting. I picked up my things with a smile and stepped to the stairs, and faced him once more, sure to receive disapproval, but he wasn't silent. He sang an exotic sound, like a sly smile and a cocked eyebrow in a hollow, varying pitch. And he just won't stop. This was what he intended me to hear. It's time for another adventure.
And then today, something happened. Something that had a consequence I need to deal with, and it's kind of a big deal, and a big decision, whichever way I want to go.
There is a huge amount of opportunity available, but it might seem unsavory? Rash? I wanted the opportunity so badly, I thought. The whole way home I made a list of pros and cons. And then, I walked in the door, set my bag on the couch, and promised him we'd talk about it, honestly, and all my feelings and all my doubts. I sat down and he held me.
Right, so I have to make a huge decision... and I did it in a 30 minute talk... with a ghost? My life is not average.
Well, we talked about how rash it was, how disapproving people might be, but at the same time how supportive everyone is. We discussed the responsibilities involved, the losses, the gains, the risks. Was this level-headed? So we let go of what everyone would think was the issue and weighed the situation without the variable. Either route seemed about even. Probably neck and neck. Except, of course, that one would receive judgment, maybe. Ouch.
I got up and told him I'd made my decision, it would be better this way, and the silent ghost, for the first time, was the sound of a bad pull across a violin.
"I haven't heard it yet, huh? I'm still not listening for the right thing."
Okay. So I sat back down, and I tried to be as quiet in every way as I could be. And I heard the birds... summertime, memories. I smiled but knew this wasn't it, we'd already been over where this was leading. Then, I listened to my heart, my real heart, all of it. And first I listened to those parts everyone does, the love ones, the people. But this wasn't it, I already knew, so I suppressed everything that he considered distracting, too. After all, there is more to my heart, to any heart. I asked myself what did I want, my heart, what was it missing, why was it empty, quiet, muted like my ghost. There had already been scissors taken to my covering, the staples ripped out to unveil this quiet heart. I was already exposed, it was just me, no faded facade. And what am I? What do I do, where do I go, what are my undying aspirations, what makes the sound? And I heard a sound, a bit like a rattlesnake, a little like a hyrax. It was Rhianna and T.I. It was like the wind instrument in Shakira music, it was hispanic guitars and languages I don't understand in chants.
"I hear, in my heart, adventure."
And I sat up. I'd ignore any opposition. I said it again, out loud, "My heart wants an adventure," I insisted, overpowering any protest that might be erupting. I picked up my things with a smile and stepped to the stairs, and faced him once more, sure to receive disapproval, but he wasn't silent. He sang an exotic sound, like a sly smile and a cocked eyebrow in a hollow, varying pitch. And he just won't stop. This was what he intended me to hear. It's time for another adventure.
