c l i m b i n g i v o r y
A little blog of Catholic wifehood, motherhood & dreams
It's me.
Just me. Alone with my lil old thoughts while my toddler sleeps in the backseat and I sit in the front seat with ants crawling around (why??? ants???) my feet. We need to clean the car. I'm still wearing my dress from Mass and munching on chicken nuggets my husband just brought me. Life is quiet. Life is good. I think it's going to get better as of today. I'm getting off Instagram. For real. I know I should have done it long before now. I've had it for about as long as I've been married and I liken it to a toxic relationship I've been trying to salvage when I should just let go. "I can't think," protests David Copperfield in my father and I's favorite film adaptation, "I can't write anymore." Yes, David. Yes. Instagram in particular has deadened my ability to think, to arm myself against the distressing sucking cacophony of too many voices ... and it has slowly siphoned much of my writer's blood. Dampened my creativity even as it promised to make me more creative. And when writing has been an integral tool of knowing oneself since childhood, to go too long without writing thus inevitably finds me arriving at not really knowing myself anymore. Or maybe better put, it finds me with my head ringing as I struggle to remember and weakly hum the song I was made to sing with lungs full of air. "I want to see mountains, mountains, Gandalf!" exclaims the weary and thirsting Bilbo with the phone (I mean Ring) listening from the depths of his pocket, "and then find somewhere quiet and finish my book." Indeed, dear Bilbo, indeed. I want to finish my book. The many books I want to write. The many many books I want to read. More than anything, the book of my own life. I am done frittering it all away on consumption, on constant searches for affirmation and truth in a world sodden with accusations and lies. I am done being used by a medium designed to addict and distract. I want to finish my book. And so I must start writing again. Writing for all I'm worth. Writing in a quiet place - a small unnoticed blog. Unraveling the knots. Climbing ivory - climbing Carmel as I bring silence to my soul by getting the words out, removing the ceaseless voices, and with surrender whispering, "I'm ready." It's going to be a good week, I think. Happy Sunday, friends ... xo mary
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MaryWife to my best friend. Mama to a gregarious 3yo boy, a determined 18mo daughter, a darling baby boy due in late July, and a miscarried child we gave back to God. (photos are from Unsplash unless I note they're mine :)
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