“And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? — now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man’s heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.” — The Tell-Tale Heart, Edgar Allen Poe.

So this, my longest post, every word a step in the hot sun, a day in the making. Have I not told you that I will share the good and bad, that I cannot only be the good and motivated boy, that recovery is not just about moving about and poetry and creative connections and spirit, it has a life of it’s own, it will charge it’s own tolls, set it’s own price, remind me that I am a firefly in the meadow sometimes, simply waiting for a breeze to blow me out into the road? I will be nothing if not honest, the good means nothing without the bad.

I love writing early in the morning, and often post two or three things before breakfast. I began this post at 6 a.m. and it is not nearly 4 o’clock in the afternoon, it has never taken me so long to write anything and I am close to surrendering to it. I feel a stirring, a pulse, that old feeling that says keep going a bit, things are coming out. They said there would be days like this, and of course there are, and this is one of them.  I am simply exhausted today, tired beyond anything in my previous experience.

My tell-tale heart and I, we have become intimate lately, went separate ways last night, it was a long days’ journey into the night.

I slept in my own bed last night for the first time in awhile, I loved being there, I did not sleep for a second. I listened to my beating heart all night, it rings loudly now, in my ears, I feel it breathing deeply and sending nourishment and life back out to me. My mind was flooded with emotion, excitement, fear and confusion. I heard the crickets, the frogs, the donkeys stirring the meadow, the breath of the dogs, felt Maria’s own good heartbeat, spoke to her heart, said hey there, let’s talk.

The doctors told me this would happen, even just yesterday, I was prepared for it, but not really. I was beginning to think I was in charge of it. All things considered, I have had things my way until last night and today. In the morning, I had a sneezing fit that brought great waves of pain and left me sweating profusely and walking and breathing carefully all day.

Mandy Mayer-Hill came over to give me a message, Scott Carrino came to bring me food and say hello. Maria drove me to Battenkill Books to sign a book there, and then we took a short walk in the woods. I returned to my story where I am working on a piece about the carriage horses and realized that I had not blogged yet today. I put aside the carriage piece. There is not enough left in my mind today for another thought or line.

My mind seems good, but slow, my body sometimes just seems like a tire with all of the air let out.

This is recovery, this is healing. There is a part of recovery that is about the mind, about attitude, hard work, breathing, moving, there is a part that is about acceptance. Something profound happened to my heart, it is being restored, being repaired. It will take time. There will, in fact, be days like this. Bow to it, and give thanks for the chance.

My study is a place of strong spiritual strength for me, a place of direction and energy and connection. It has never been a place of such confusion and emptiness. I accept it.

I sat here crying in frustration as I pecked out one word after another, rested the my neck where all the tubes were inserted, breathed slowly and deeply. My words have always been at my fingertips, have always flowed from them. They came slowly today, like wounded warriors making their way off a battlefield, they were tired and discouraged. This is the next step for me, the meaning of awareness and growth. To leave this wonderful room, blow out my candles, gather my dog and confer once more with my tell-tale heart.

Good heart, we are just really getting to know one another, I have taken you for granted, you do not seem to hold that against me or resent me for it. But I see that you will heal in your own way and in your own time, and I am your servant in that, not your master. Something is missing from my soul and spirit today, it is the essence of me, and I have never been without it. I hope you will return it to me when you can and are ready. I will wait for you, no obligation. I have no complaints or arguments, only humility and awe.

Is all love just a contest, dear heart, one I hope to never lose? There are so many good reasons for you to spend more time with me.