“I’m stranded at the edge of the world

It’s a world I don’t know, Got nowhere to go, Feel like I’m left…

Every day, every day, it’s hustle time.

Every way, One more mountain to climb...

–Van Morrison, Stranded.

I’m stopping work for the day.

I was going on about something this morning, and I noticed that Maria was oddly looking at me, too polite to say anything but puzzled. “Do I sound strange to you?” I asked, “Because I sound strange to me.”

We know each other well, and the look means she’s worried about me, and she also saw that I am worried about myself. I think my brain is concerned about me, too.

I did sound strange. I’ve never had a brain injury, let alone a bleeding brain. And I don’t remember being in such pain. This is new and bewildering ground to me.

I’ve been writing continuously since the accident, and Maria says I’ve been jumping from topic to topic. “You’re not incoherent,” she said, “but you’re not like  yourself either.” This is what I thought; this is what I was hearing.

Time to listen and stop.

I talked with Maria, spoke with a nurse in my doctor’s office, got online to read about concussions, and remembered what my daughter told me about resting the brain. I felt as if I was babbling, just going on and on. I’m a talker, I know, but not this much. I’m a writer, but not without thought, and I was not thinking right.

 

I realized that this was a symptom of my concussion; I had been resting everything but the injured party, my brain. Maria was much too friendly to tell me I sounded odd, but her eyes talked, and I recognized the truth of what I was hearing but not grasping.

My brain is the busiest and most feverish part of me, even without hitting my head on the kitchen floor.

I said I needed silence and rest.

My brain tells me to shut up, nap (I haven’t slept well in days), and soak up the silence.

I need to go inside and listen to myself and absorb all of the good people I know, urging me to take some time and rest.

My back is hurting thI’m at is what is keeping me from sleeping and resting. Maria and I went for a walk around the farm this morning; we gave some torn-up sod to the donkeys, dropped some mail in the mailbox, and I took a few pictures.

Other than waiting to meet Zip, who might be our next barn cat, we are pausing work, blogging, cell phones, e-mail, and texts. I’m in a praying moon and a Van Morrison moon. I have listened to Morrison’s Magic Time album for much of the night and all morning. I’m strange,d and it’s a world I don’t know with nowhere to go.

When I am most needy, I go into the silence, my sweet place. I’m going there this afternoon, as soon as I can.

Maria says she also feels exhausted and disconnected. We’re going to do it together. I won’t be back online today, Tuesday. I’m standing at the edge of the world. It’s a world I don’t know. It’s like I’m stranded—time to listen to Van, my mystic.

I expect to return tomorrow morning, soon after my Zoom Meeting with my blog friends. See you then, and thank you for the many lovely and uplifting messages of support.

They are appreciated.

“And I’m stranded between

That ol’ devil and the deep blue sea

And nobody’s going to tell me,

Tell me what, what time it is…

–Van Morrison