Humus
Perhaps you’ve noticed, but I have been posting very few blogs lately. I was sort of surprised about that myself, for I have known a very fertile spell, lasting about two years, in which I post at least one online text a week.
Has the inspiration dried up?
Not at all, I am observing and sensing and thinking just as avidly as before. Perhaps the words have run out? No, that’s not right either. Quite the contrary, in fact.
What is true, though, is that I will only put something online when the words themselves urge me very strongly to do so because they want to get out there. And right now, they don’t seem to be craving exposure all that badly. It’s not a necessity, that much is clear.
And this is just the way it is, even if there is a lot going on in the world, even if we are not only on the verge of fall but also on the verge of an era. Sometimes everything that is coming at us overwhelms me and I can hardly grasp it. I go through cycles of fear, hope, anger. Sometimes I can distance myself, reach for the book I’m reading and for a cup of tea, look out at the trees in front of my window and think: one day, all of us will be humus, and that is a good thing.
Just leave me to root, like an air plant, in the space where I am. Leave me to stare out the window, quietly, and watch the world around me blossom, fade, fall, change.
