I remember waking, years ago, to the sound of my own voice mumbling unintelligible syllables. In that dream I was being pressed upon by a supernatural presence so powerful that I knew my breath and soul was about to be extinguished if I did not succeed in speaking aloud the magic Name that would deliver me. I I tried with extreme effort several times to utter the name, yet no sound came out of my mouth. I marshalled every last ounce of strength in my body to try one more time, and that is when I woke up.
The slowly melting glacier and the dream scenario are the closest images I can think of to describe the struggle I have had these past two plus years to name my thoughts, to capture and describe the questions I have lived with and the trails of reasoning and remembering I have followed. The inner struggle has been so intense that I have found myself unable to speak, unable to articulate or even name to others the inner paths I walked along. I have been mute.
But these past two years I have wondered often if I will ever again feel a comfortable certainty about what is true, what isn't, and how to live in truth. These past two years I have been a woman who has carried on an extensive and at times excruciating inner conversation, struggling, with all my might to find and speak the words that might reveal and frame the truth and meaning .
Several years ago I wanted to post regularly to a blog that others would read because I felt my words might be able to influence and help others to seek and live truth. At this point, I see my posts to this blog more as a promise I need to keep, a means of personal discipline and accountability, and a way of breaking silence.