I wrote all the words

In the beginning of any project or endeavor--like a new year--there are strings of wisdom and unresolved questions that tag along. I have given little thought to where I go from here--after the accident. Tomorrow, I am to begin my old normal life and I do not know how that will look. Rather than "normal" . . . it is not. A new normal will come into the days that follow. I will form new. My work will form new. What I did and what I do will form new. Change is here and I cannot see what that means. It is after the accident. Something has ended but what starts now? What takes the place of recovery? When at an impasse, it helps to look through old journals because lessons learned seem to lead to. . . lessons learned. This morning I found words about change and recovery--over and over again. The New Year comes no matter when the new year begins. The following was written several years ago.

I wrote all the words I needed to say (the angry, nasty, cry-baby whines,  prayers, pleadings, incantations) until I was speechless — no more words. And it was exactly here that I discovered silence inside-out.  And it was exactly here that I was free and ready   to   recognize the spiritual at the core of this experience.