By the time I heard the goats crying this morning I had already been awake for 3 hours and did some difficult work including, crying. I was sitting on a friend’s deck when I heard them and thought they were the cries of a man trying to alert us to call 9-1-1. Silly city girl.
I had never heard a Goat cry. I was told they cry for two reasons. Their reason when I heard them was hunger. The single cry had the disharmony of 3 more goats by the time the food showed up and then, silence.
It was the kind of silence that feels…healing. A need fulfilled. A panic transformed into peace.
It was the right sound track for me today. I’m tackling a whole bunch of hard things in life and doing it methodically.
20 more hand-release push-ups…I scream on the last one. Then collapse. Peace.
Filling out another form that feels like it documents nothing but my failure. Sign at the bottom. Date. Cuss. Peace.
Looking at the calendar knowing the months ahead will be filled with monumental endings. Cry. Wash my face. Peace.
I decided today that the goats got it right. Maybe this whole: never let ‘em see you sweat and be stoic in the face of adversity thing is overrated. Maybe our days would be a little less filled with panic if we started them out with some lung-expanding shouts to the universe.
At any rate, it’s 6:27 p.m. 12 hours since I woke. A good day, I think. I got a lot done, even if it wasn’t the sort of successful productivity we boast about in Christmas Letters.
It was, nonetheless, hard, and it took me one small step farther down a road I have no choice but to take.
Please don’t fear for me, faithful readers. I’m alright, really. I guess I just wanted to write this, now, to offer those of you in similar situations my epiphany: shouting, crying, raging against what we must do to move forward has a place on our to do list I think.
I am owning my weakness. And doing the hard stuff anyway. And it makes me both wanna scream and give myself credit for doing so.
A prelude to peace, Goats Crying.