Monday, April 30, 2012


Part of my armor
Every day that I leave the farm, I put on my armor.  It's a full suit of armor, too, including heels, "dress" clothes, styled hair, and make-up (ugh, the absolute bane of my existence).  While I put on my physical armor, I also put on my psychological armor.  You see, I am an introvert in an extrovert world.

I can look like an extrovert; I can act like an extrovert.  But the plain truth is that I can only maintain the facade for a limited amount of time before I must find a quiet place to recharge.

So, I retreat into my office, or a empty bench outside, or into a book and pull my mind back together again.  Recently, I've been enjoying Quiet:  The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain.  I cannot turn a page without fighting the urge to shout-- metaphorically, of course-- "Somebody does understand!"

And that's important.

Phoebes on a foggy morning
If you're an introvert, you're often treated as, well, weird.  While other people may thrive on the noise and commotion, the introvert is distracted or even disturbed by the excessive stimuli and often withdraws from it.  I'm fortunate in that I've learned to tolerate it, after a fashion.  I can function in a fast-paced, dynamic environment for a period of time, but, at the end of the day, I require solitude to refocus myself.

Which brings me back to the farm.

Here is my refuge.  It's so quiet I can hear the sedge grass whispering in the breeze.  I can hear the call of the bobwhite, and the song of the meadowlark.  I can hear myself think.
A field of buttercup

And tomorrow, I return to the extrovert world--to the noise, to the constant motion, to the incessant distraction.  But in my mind, in my heart, like the sweet scent of black locust trees, the memory of a golden field of buttercup stills my soul.

What restores you?


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