Yackety Yack, Yack, Yack.
"And then a scholar said, 'Speak of Talking.'
And he answered, saying:
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words many indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.
There are those among you who seek the talkative through fear of being alone.
The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked selves and they would escape.
And there are those who talk, and without knowledge or forethought reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand.
And there are those who have the truth within them, but they tell it not in words.
In the bosom of such as these the spirit dwells in rhythmic silence.
When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the market place, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your tongue.
Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear;
For his soul will keep the truth of your heart as the taste of the wine is remembered
When the color is forgotten and the vessel is no more."
Kahlil Gibran - The Prophet
I was told yesterday by a friend that I talk to much. I would agree and have been making movements to rectify this issue I've had since a child. I have ceased most phone conversation with most friends and acquaintances. I have restricted my conversations at work. I limit the amount of online correspondence and instant messaging. I have not completely silenced myself, for I do much outward thinking here on the lil corner of the net where my words are not timed to someone else's minutes. Here I can think through what I have to say without the pressure of an anxious angle. The two people I share and spend vast amounts of time in verbal discourse and daily conversation with is my mother and my daughter, in all its necessity and legacy.
But as a kid I use to run my fuckin' mouth! I remember 5th grade when my teacher moved my desk to the furthest back corner of the class not even facing the front of the classroom for the last half of the school year. Then I began my letter writing. I remember always being seated next to the most quiet person in the class in my teachers attempt to try to keep me from talking which never worked. My mother called me Chatty Kathy and has often reminded me that my daughters on and on yackin is my payback.
But in my new solitude, I as my friend so sharply expressed to me, when I shut up my thoughts are very well applied and manifested. I would definitely agree. I create more, write more eloquently, etcetera, etcetera. But the result of my silence is a sensitivity to the way others have been talking to me and continue to talk to me as I allow them. I have been most sensitive to my interrogator friends. Some of which hack and dissect my words, twist them at times although they can and have been very informative and therapeutic in many ways. But friends that can be totally blinded by their own perspective. My silence has allowed me a hiatus and awareness that has been much needed. I hope it helps me to reevaluate and put these interactions into a better perspective so that I can continue to grow as a human and a spirit, thus better dealing with the challenging people in my life.
So with my new solitude, borderline reclusiveness, the gilt nature of my silence has been affirmed.
Silence IS golden and like Jill says
"I'm livin' my life like it's GOLDEN."
shuttinthefuckup.
