Disappearing Acts

The slow crawl into oblivion

Thinking about all the ways we can disappear. No posting. No social media. No accepting of invitations. Just disappearing into the vastness of my own life. Spending time in nature is what I mostly do these days.

I have certainly neglected this space. Pondering the reasons for taking time out of my life to write here. Yet, I do come through and read and read and read posts from writers giving advice to writers. And of course, all those posts about “how to make money on Substack?”

Algorithms. I wished I cared more, but it seems that my care meter is so low. My energy is low, but not low in the way that I want to completely disappear from life, but low for insignificant things. From mind altering things, the feeding of noise and nuisances that churn in my stomach.

What are insignificant things? I am figuring that out especially as sleep is becoming a premium ritual. I take less medicine when I sleep and I drink less coffee when I sleep.

So daily, I am disappearing into my sleep routine. I end conversations sooner, fewer. I’m in my bedroom much earlier starting my ritual to prepare for rest which includes reading.

And I’ve been sleeping for a solid 7-8hours uninterrupted. That has never happened in my life that I can remember. I’m usually up three-four times for pee breaks.

When I was younger, too many children in one room to find my own sleep rhythm and nightmares.

Disappearing into creating a catalogue of work. The time to pen a piece. The time to edit a piece. The time to think about a piece. The time to search for a home for a piece. Time must be exchanged for more significant things. Publishing is a significant thing.

Disappearing into solitude. This has become a delicious place of harmony. Relishing the quiet without guilt, or thinking I must be talking or doing something else, something other than being quiet. Meditation. Breathing Diminishing Cortisol levels. I pause to tell myself, we are not in flight or fight.

I grew up with three other siblings in a room. Six people waiting in line for the one bathroom, and time inside the bathroom was short. I’d go outside in the backyard to hide for solitude. To be in nature, possibly my earth sign nature.

Oh how I have gotten so far away from being that ten year old little girl looking for a quiet place to be with my thoughts. Now, that has become so important to me, premium. I am her again, curious about the landscape of my own mind.

Everyday, I give some time to the fall leaves on my back deck. I didn’t grow up in the Northeastern part of USA. I grew up around palm trees, beaches and mangoes thirty-five years ago. Fall still fascinates me, as if this is my first fall in the northern part of the country, and its year 35. I moved to this city to go to college and never left.

Disappearing into books. I am reading bell hooks, All about Love: New Visions, again. The pages are worn, dogeared and journaled in ink, pencil and highlighted. I’m in deep conversation with bell hooks about her ruminating about love and my thoughts about it. 2021 during the rounding up of the pandemic did I crack open the book for the first time.

Four years later, my thoughts have transformed. My ideas about love have either expanded or simplified. I’m still not sure which.

Disappearing into prayer. The world, the way it is I think requires more time in prayer, in intercession for others too. I know that it works. I am a believer in it its power to help aid humans into better situation, or the strength to suffer through their own consequences.

Nonetheless, this is a place I like to disappear into. I have a prayer chair in my bedroom and I sit by the window and pray. Somethings the prayers are sobs, just disappearing into sorrow and staying there a while. Feeling the heaviness of the news and people’s uncertainties, along with my own.

And disappearing into my career. After too long as an educator, I’ve been reinvigorated into providing more. Giving students more. Creating more. Using AI to help me establish more using less time.

Disappearing acts have become somewhat of a necessity for me now as I age. I have even more desire to expand my disappearing acts—more desire to pause awhile.