I am stopping to write. It is Wednesday. The Full Hunter Moon will rise tonight, whether I can see it or not, it will be there. I am not a hunter; I suppose I would be considered more of a gatherer, but I do understand and respect the importance of this moon long ago when supermarkets did not dot this land and hunters, men I suppose, had to find food to eat and share with their families and neighbors; this moon was of great assistance. I honor it still.

I did not feel much like putting a piece together today, only because I have little of interest to say to you. By choice, I have settled into a very simple routine, I seldom go anywhere socially. I am always happy to run into new and old friends at the grocery store or at Caribbean Ice — my two excursions — I just have less interest in “getting out,” therefore, little to report in that regard. Right now, except for this computer, I am using to write my column, there is nothing on in my house. The TV is off, no music is playing, my phone is quiet, as it updates, and the landline is mute. The silencing of these things has created this environment that once was a part all of our lives, a place of stillness and a place where you listened to your thoughts and formed your opinions (and wrote your column).

Within this realm of peacefulness, I decided to clean out my purse, a fun bohemian bag I bought at a market in San Antonio this spring when Skip and I were on a visit to see William and Lorena (these are excursions I love). I carefully emptied it on the keeping room table and found a spilled bottle of Tylenol, lipstick, a broken ball point pen and an assortment of old receipts. There was no sound in my house, just me and the little task at hand. I thought about me, I thought about how I was feeling and sort of got reacquainted with myself digging through the history of this purse and the trail it left while sitting in silence on this autumn day of the Hunters Moon. 

I realized how powerful and nurturing this silence was and, sadly, how elusive it has become in today’s world, a world too many times crowded with ego driven toxic shouts across the boundless airwaves. I also thought about young people and wondered where do they go to get away from the NOISE, where do they go to hear their own unique voices and to discover who they (really) are?

I made a small “to do list” this morning… strawberries, pansies and a banana plant to plant, roast a chicken  with some of the rosemary I have growing at Caribbean Ice and  fill and send a package to Elizabeth on Cape Cod, just some fun things like a Halloween ribbon for her hair, some warm stockings for winter and a scattering of heartfelt words on a card. I think I will get this all done. 

These tasks are the fluff to enjoy amongst all that must be done today, all of the day work, the work we all must tend to.

Amongst the fleeting stillness of my morning, I walked outside and picked a few persimmons, spotted a late season monarch caterpillar on a milkweed plant and happily picked two eggs from my pullets…highlights for me in this 64th year, in this place in life that wants more stillness than stimulation, a peaceful place to write this “Seinfieldish” Sunday column.

 

PAM SHENSKY is a wife, mom to five and blogs at www.pamshensky.com.