I can’t think of anything to write about. Tapping into my treasure trove of memories is proving to be empty. I don’t feel like writing about music, poetry, artwork. All I can think about is nothing. Which isn’t very helpful with generating a topic of interest.
Maybe this will just be a boring blog post.
My husband is watching a Roger Moore James Bond movie, The Spy Who Loved Me and the campy fighting scene is horrible. The obvious choreography of punches and moves is obvious to the point of making me just want to hide my head.
I went to a blog post generator. I was invited to type in a word, a subject of interest.
I wrote “silence.” Because the interior of my mind is silent. The words can not string themselves together and create a viable set of stories or thoughts of philosophies that I can tease out to the end.
I hit the generate button. Horrible topics. Things about how “9 Ways that Silence is Sexy” or how “Silence is the New Sexy” or that “Silence is the New Black.”
And then came the title, “Don’t Hold Back Your Silence.”
I have a title. It doesn’t really make much sense to me. But I love the idea of holding onto silence. Of holding onto the quiet that doesn’t necessarily pervade the world. right now, the James Bond-Roger Moore silliness has been suspended in favor of commercials, more campy acting that is obviously stretched.
Yeah, I couldn’t do much better. But it’s really bad when I can see through the campiness and know that the actors are attempting to act.
The world is saturated with sound. The spring peepers are hyper in their chorus. Just outside the window, the spiders are emerging from their cocoon-pods and are spinning their webs. I imagine that if I could just listen hard enough, I might hear the rustling of their legs skimming along the filaments of their webs.
People will say that “silence is golden,” and I wonder at the weight of silence. If I were to assign silence a value, a heaviness, I wonder at the price that would be paid for silence.
I remember when the Boy or the Girl were babies and sobbed non-stop because they were sick, they were teething, they had gas, they just needed to hear the sound of their own voices. Many times, I would just pray for a moment’s peace, the ability to escape from the sanity-splitting screams that shook my brain and destroyed the fabric of my momentary existence.
Even now, though they are fifteen and almost-twelve, I will sometimes have to live through the caterwauling of their arguments, their catapulting voices rising into high-pitched shrieks as they demand a rectitude of the injustice being created because I acted in favor of one and not the other…or didn’t act fast enough. Or didn’t see the boundary lines and take a stand.
I love the word silence, love how it is a soft and gentle word that invokes the peace that can come with silence. I love how the s curls the tongue, how the ce combined create an allure of quiet.
Don’t hold back your silence. Live in the quiet of the moment. Exult in the freedom that not speaking of not making sound can create. In the silence, I can have my opinion and not be subjected to hurting others.
In my silence, I can communicate far more than if I were to open my mouth and scream.