Years ago someone gave me a set of ancient Rune Cards (similar to Tarot ) I sadly no longer have, 
but one in particular has always stayed fixed in my memory. I can’t recall its name but remember the inscription; to paraphrase:
‘When the fishermen couldn’t fish, they repaired their nets…’
This often comes to mind when life takes a holiday.
What do I mean by holiday? 
When your world grows unexpectedly quiet and how you deal with a sound of silence you’re not accustomed to hearing.
For some it might be welcomed, a surprise rest of sorts; for me it’s unnerving putting all my senses on guard like a cat in new territory.
In what way can I repair my nets while I wait for whatever is coming to get here? 
Normally I’d create some havoc to distract me from my fear. Involve myself in something unhealthy like a recreational drug or man I shouldn’t go near.
The result would be the same – an addiction to a poisonous substance.
Gratefully my appetites have quelled quite a bit, but what are my options now?
Should I paint my apartment?
Polyurethane the floors?
Pierce something?
I could volunteer someplace, manufacture some worthwhile purpose.
What about that second language I always wanted to learn? Could I manage it without fear usurping my focus?
As scary as it feels, might I attempt to just ‘be with me,’ resting in the unknown that will reveal itself soon enough.
What am I really afraid of?
Loneliness?
Destitution?
Getting older?
Death even?
I’m luckier than most because I write – I’m used to that allotted time of owned isolation. Of course it’s time I control, not time imposed upon me by an invisible force.
This intermission certainly wasn’t my idea.
What do you do exactly when the phone stops ringing and work’s at large, friends are absent and those still near are inexplicably aloof?
Your lover is even elsewhere drifting in his own boat.
How does one manage to stay calm when you can feel your cells preparing for a battle you feel is coming but can’t quite see? 
This is where faith comes in, when it’s called to serve. Those that have it are mysteriously serene no matter what befalls them…consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin…Matthew 6:28
Where is my faith by the way? I seemed to have left it someplace, on a bench or bus stop – a cafe table while lost in thought?
Of course I checked my pockets. It was the first place I looked.
I can always ‘act as if’ I suppose, pretend I still have it…
like those fishermen who, when they couldn’t fish, repaired their nets… 
SB
