It’s been awfully quiet around here.
Little too quiet, if you ask me.
But you didn’t ask.
But still, I’ll keep talking.
It’s a sharp contrast. All this peace. All this quiet. Compared to the tempest of activity from the past two years. I took a lot of risks. They paid off. Things exploded. Barely kept my head on straight. It was good. It was scary. It was fun.
Then, I recognized something. Everything I was doing was winding down. Wasn't a shock. In fact, even as I started, I prepped for the end. Used the run of Calvin and Hobbes as an example. Its creator, Bill Watterson, ended the comic on a high note. Before Calvin got old. Fans wailed in protest ... until we compared its end to Peanuts and Garfield, both chugging along far after their expiration dates. We sighed and agreed with Watterson's decision. Nobody wanted Calvin to go stale. Therefore, I wanted to follow that example with my own work. So, when it was over, it was over. Besides. I needed a break. Some R&R.
As quickly as I released myself, fell into a slump. Even the most stressful risks fall into a routine. Been scratching my head, wondering what to do. Feeling like my life is confined to waking. Combing hair. Eating. Driving to work. Working. Eating again. Working some more. Driving back home. Eating again.
It’s a sleepy time. A vanilla time. My life an empty white room. I could get lost in the nothingness.
Reminds me of a scene one of my favorite books, The Magician’s Nephew from The Chronicles of Narnia. The heroes are transported to a wooded planet. A quiet and peaceful place, where they fight being lulled to sleep. Pools are scattered throughout the. The characters discover that each pool is a portal to another world. And speculate the reason why this Wood Between the Worlds was quiet and uneventful, is because nothing was meant to happen in that in-between place. Its sole purpose is a transition. Guiding travelers to worlds where things do happen.
I start appreciating my vanilla time. Reluctantly. Taking the opportunity to rest for a spell. Regroup. Start thinking new thoughts. Handling new spikes of fear and insecurities. What if this doesn’t work? What if nothing pans out? What if I jump into the wrong pool? What if I’m stuck and … Then ignoring the doubts. Continue dreaming dreams. Planning their execution. Building a platform of stability, so the next round of activity has a solid foundation.
This quiet time won’t last. It never does. I tell myself to not get too comfortable. Get ready to jump.