When turmoil is not

The household — two humans, two canines and a feline — has not begun to stir except for the stirrings of my crazy brain. There, there is turmoil —

No, there’s not! You’re in a contented and peaceful place.

I’m telling this story, aren’t I?

Yes, but — turmoil?! You were just thinking how lovely the morning silence is, and how glorious the bay sounds and the wind chimes rattling sweet random tunes with the gusts — how can you suggest there’s turmoil in your brain?

Well, I’m arguing with myself for one thing. And I’m reacting with joy to high winds and choppy, noisy waves and bits of melodic metal crashing against each other — sounds like a crazy brain to me.

You are taking the external and imposing it upon the internal peace that you actually feel — the glory of nature’s fury is filling you with awe and, well, what better word than peace?

Exactly. Crazy, huh?

Seems pretty normal to me.

That’s because you’re me, so of course, it’s crazy.

No, it’s normal, because we’re safely tucked inside this nice solid house, and the wind and the water is an abstract something on the other side of the wall. You wouldn’t feel so peaceful out there.

Yep, but I’m in here. Cozy, isn’t it?

Yes, cozy, not crazy. Now you’re talking sense.

Published by WarrenBluhm

Wordsmith and podcaster, Warren is a reporter, editor and storyteller who lives near the shores of Green Bay with his wife, two golden retrievers, Dejah and Summer, and Blackberry, an insistent cat. Author of It's Going to Be All Right, Echoes of Freedom Past, Full, Refuse to be Afraid, Gladness is Infectious, 24 flashes, How to Play a Blue Guitar, Myke Phoenix: The Complete Novelettes, A Bridge at Crossroads, The Imaginary Bomb, A Scream of Consciousness, and The Imaginary Revolution.

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