Honesty sometimes comes unexpectedly

A friend emailed me today. Something I had shared with her touched her enough to respond.
How goes it? She asked.
Things are quiet, I said.
Quiet? Who is that person answering her question and what has the universe done with the real Antje?
I have never, in my conscious memory, honestly thought of my life as quiet. I am never bored. I am never rested. I am never, ever uninvolved.
But right now, I am living in a cocoon of my own making. Frequently being the first to leave an event. Sometimes skipping them altogether. Scheduling only one event at a time. Spending a lot of hours in front of TIVO.
We are always trying to achieve this... quiet time, the art of doing nothing, regeneration. And I think I have.
Quiet is a great way for me to think of it, too. Because under normal Antje programming rules, the descriptions would be bored, lonely, unproductive or perhaps even lazy. And I began to do this self-berating on Saturday but avoided it by changing the subject of my internal dialog.
Then, this morning, someone else in my life asked, since I was home waiting for the dishwasher repairman, if I was going to sit down with a good book.
Nope, said I, and listed off several chores I intended to accomplish.
But then I did it anyway. I sat. With a book. And I relished it. And it refreshed me.
And not only was my heart quiet. But my mind was still, too.
I feel sort of silly writing about it now... but already I fear I am losing my tentative grip.