Silence is soothing.
At the right time and place. There are moments when we just want quiet. When we desire peaceful reflection. Moments of simply wanting to reside in the harbour of ourselves. Silence chosen and embraced is the sweet blissful cocoon of tea for one and a book at midnight. Wrapped in soft blanket on the couch I savour each sip, each word, and wander the paths of imagination.
Silence is bitter.
At 4:30 AM when the world is asleep, and all around is the dead of night. Even the creak of the house long settled into the cold silence of the dark. Silence then is as bitter as black coffee. Espresso doubled down and chugged straight up and hot. I slip out of bed and wander the empty silence of my house. Standing in each cold empty room looking for answers, looking for voices. But it is only the echo of me rambling to myself.
Silence is nothing.
A gap the size of the moon dancing across the skies, slipping over stars and planets. Dancing between streaks of light from comets. Silence is the sputtering of candles defying the dark, defying the rain, defying the wind, defying time. The candles never win, but oh how they burn, oh how they dazzle with bright burning flames. Silence is the gasp in the moment after you and I. As we pull apart and lie side-by-side, side-by-each, alone in the racing of our hearts.
Silence is absence.
Empty spaces in my memory of people who made me laugh. Made me cry. Made me love them. Perhaps they even loved me. At least in silence I can dream and think; believe that once they cared to call my name and longed to hold me near. Silence frees the ghosts of the past to wander through my mind with stories of ‘what if…’ and ‘remember when…’
Silence is sharp.
Razor edged slicing away what needs to be forgotten. Slicing deep and opening wounds we cannot leave alone. Silence is when we are fully ourselves; undistracted, undissolved, undistilled. The raw essence of I fully exposed to the sun and the sky. Bleeding away trickle by tick, droplets of time all bloody and slick. Revealing the truth to a stupid old dick. In silence there is no hiding from regret and sweet guilt.
Silence is golden.
What more is there to say? Silence is needed, and simply embraced. Held close to feel cold reality and warm life still breathing, still beating, still in this frame. Silence speaks loudly – and when we listen closely silence sets us free.
A friend of mine has just launched a Tictail online store for her hand-made one-of-a-kind jewelry and I helping promote her efforts. Please go take a look – and pass on the link to anyone that you think might be interested in her creations!
Okay, beautiful people of facebook. It’s that time of year – I need support. If you were thinking of sprucing up your jewelry closet, now is the time. Do you have a special event to go to? Perhaps you have a date coming up. Or you have a job and want to look prettier than your co-workers. Or there is a girl you’re trying to impress. (you could always win a girl’s heart with lovely jewelry.) Or you know someone who needs your support as she tries to get her little teeny weeny business off the ground. (Me! ) Whatever the case, I would really appreciate your help. And that’s that. Happy Thursday to all!
As I was walking to the grocery store, the wind blew a bright pink slip of paper against my leg. The paper clung to me, begging me to pick it up and see the secrets it held. It was crumpled and damp from the snow. And not just pink – the edges were graced with green and white flowers. And black graceful words inked on the white lines. A grocery list fallen from a pocket.
The list was simple:
A rather basic list telling a simple ordinary story. A mother with an infant. Most likely a young woman from the style of notepaper and the fanciful doodle of hearts and flowers. On the back some more words:
‘Check bank account – see if enough for shampoo? Bottle of wine? Candle? Call Brian invite over to watch movie.’
Then a doodle of a little smiley face. And a phone number – most likely Brian’s.
Then written and underlined: Maybe buy winning lottery ticket and change my world! HA!
Not sure why – but I placed the lost list in my wallet.
By this time I had reached the grocery store. Just inside the door was a young woman with a stroller and a sleeping infant. She seemed frazzled. And she was searching through her pockets and her bags. On a whim I said, “You look like you lost something.”
She sighed and gave a half-smile. “Yeah my grocery list. And my brain.” Her lovely green eyes tired and sad – encircled with dark rings of fatigue.
I chuckled saying, “Looking after a baby will do that to anyone. Glad mine are grown. I think I may have your list – found it in the snow.”
She bounced as I pulled out the pink notepaper. “Yes that is it! Thank you!” Her fingers touched mine as she took the paper – and melted my heart.
“Oh and this was also on the ground – it must be yours.” She stared at the twenty-dollar bill in my hand and shook her head. “No sir, I didn’t have any money to lose.”
“Then it is destined for you. Someone lost it and you will make better use of it then I ever will.” I pressed it into her hand, “Have a Merry Christmas” and walked away. From behind me I heard, “Thank you. Thank you.”
As I was leaving, I saw her at the check-out and could see she had bought extra items for her child. She paused at the wine display looking at a bottle of white. She glanced into her purse, and then walked out of the store.
I bought the bottle of wine and went outside. She was organizing her purchases in the stroller basket, when she saw me. She gave me a big smile, “Thanks again!”
“No problem,” I said. “How old is your little one? May I see?”
She hesitated. “Sure.” she said . “She is 7-months.” She unzipped the cover and I peeked inside.
“She is lovely!” I kicked over one of my bags sending a can rolling. The young woman skipped after it and I slipped the bottle of wine underneath with her other groceries.
I took the can from her, and she zipped the cover again over the sleeping child.
“Have a lovely evening!” I called as I walked away – content to have rediscovered the real purpose of this time of year: to share without expectation.
It really is better to give.