Vow of Silence

No.  Not the one I apparently took 3 months ago when I stopped writing this blog.

A Vow to embark on a profound, life-altering spiritual journey.  My soul knows no bounds when it comes to stretching beyond its comfort zone into the far off places of ethereal and seldom explored energy.  I’m just that way.  Always have been.

Ever since I delved into the masterpiece, Eat, Pray, Love  (back when I had the time to delve into anything other than “Once Upon a Potty”), I too have wanted to leave my family and all those I hold dear, move to India and go within.  Flee to a world of Silence.  (Of course I would also like to eat my way through Italy first and gain an additional 15 pounds, because quite frankly, this year I am on a roll, but I digress.)

Silence

Silence – Meaning no speaking.

Not. A. Word.

I decided that this simply must be done to clear out the cobwebs that have clouded the nooks and crannies of my ever-so-chatty brain.  And what better time to do it than when one is the caretaker of a two and three-year-old who are not in any camp or school and therefore spend all of their time at home trying to kill one another  playing Candyland, painting, crafting and enjoying many other family activities to enrich the rapidly expanding mind. They don’t need a mother who speaks to them.  They listen to about 5% of what I have to say anyway. It is because of these wholesome practices that they have learned to be quite capable of going off and entertaining themselves in healthy, fruitful and non-violent ways.

So, it begins. Six days of absolute silence…My courageous act of Martyrdom.

Yes. Martyrdom.

Because I believe all shall benefit from the lessons I am about to learn from my walk into the far off depths of Solitude.  While the children spin, yell, fist fight and roll around me, I shall remain untouched.  Quiet.  Stoic.

And I tell you this.  Hear me and hear me well…

This choice has absolutely nothing to do with the two cysts that were sliced off of my vocal cords at New York Presbyterian Hospital while I floated in the abyss of general anesthesia and narcotics this morning.

Nothing.

It has very little to do with the strict Doctor’s orders to refrain from uttering as much as a word, whispered or non.  Nor does it have to do with the threat that I will never sing again should I decide to disregard these orders.

I do this for me.  For my soul.  For my Family.  And really, for the good of

All Human Life Everywhere.

Day one of the journey complete.

Don’t call to thank me.  I can’t answer the phone.

Motherfog Fact-Check – All statements are true and correct.  Except for the hogwosh about a spiritual journey.  Gotta shut-up, peeps.  And this stuff HAS to be documented for my children.  

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21 responses to “Vow of Silence

  1. Heal well, lovely! I’m glad to see you back over here at the fog…wish it were under better circumstances for you. ;) xoxo

  2. I love you!

    • And I you! there was a time (like yesterday) that I thought to keep this ordeal a secret. And then I realized that no on really cares. ;0 Meaning that it’s not that big of a deal and I don’t think people stop hiring people because of it anymore.

  3. This made me giggle…I am laughing with you. Well, maybe not WITH you, because you are not allowed to laugh, but you know what I mean!

  4. Oh Emily! I am so sorry to hear about your surgery and voice! I wish a quick and full recovery! Keeping you in my thoughts, and everyone around you during this 6 day silence :) good luck!

  5. Sending you tons of healing energy Emily. The world needs your beautiful voice. Rest it well! Xoxox

  6. You are an Amazing writer My friend

  7. I second Heather’s sentiment. I hope that the recovery is swift. Too bad the kids are a bit too young for sleep away camp yet. Then perhaps the forced silence would provide a respite.

  8. So freaking funny. You might have found the only way to make this journey amusing. That’s a good sign. And I’m sure you’ll be able to serenade your floor mates when you’re put in a straightjacket after this week…

    • And you, Miss Christine Harkin….I believe I wrote you a text a bit ago when surgery was first a thought. I recall typing vocal “chords”. It was not until the day of my surgery that I was informed that the proper spelling is “cords”. Now, while I find this odd because “chord” is something that makes music, and “cord” is a cable or rope, and of course vocal cords are for making music, I still feel that we are close enough for you to write something to the effect of “Emily….I cannot let you go on misspelling the part of your body that has been your livelihood. Please take my correction and do not let anyone else know you did not know how to spell it”. Or something along those lines. How can I trust you? Ever? Tell me, how? ;)

      • Well, my darling (and I do mean darling and *adorable*) friend, I didn’t notice. First, because texts make the things I write into gibberish and I grant everyone else wide latitude in texts. Second, because everyone makes mistakes. And third because I wasn’t paying attention since you were announcing surgery and all, and I was focused on you not spelling. I’m a decent human being, not an editorial robot.
        A fourth reason, hardly worth mentioning, is that I never thought about it and had a 50/50 chance of making the same error myself.
        So, in short, know now that you can’t trust me. And you should never again text me heartfelt thoughts on the off chance that I *won’t* tell you that you’re a moron.
        You giant moron.

      • You almost made me laugh out loud. You are trying to ruin my chances of ever singing again, aren’t you? ;)

      • Oooops. When can I be funny again? Two weeks? I promise to be boring until you get the okay to guffaw.

  9. I hope your recovery is quick! And peaceful!

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