Posts tagged #Quiet

deafening (adj).


There are many kinds of silence:

There is the silence that comes
after the children are put to bed,
the hush that comes after explaining
the world to these tiny people all day,
and you tiptoe in your socks, praying
not to trip on any sharp toy that
has camouflaged itself into the rug.

There is the silence on the subway,
even with its screeching and whirring,
even with the chattering of strangers,
their world is not your world and
has somehow been put on mute as
you go from home to work, work
to dinner, dinner to home.

There is the kind of silence when you
look up to the sky and wonder about
its ceiling, you send a message on the
wind and wonder where it will land,
you whisper, “God” as a question and
listen for an echo.

There is the kind of silence planting
seeds, and you run your hands over
the soft soil, you look out over rows
of nothing and wonder if you’re the
only living thing in the field, you wonder
how you are made of the same things
as your garden, you wonder what
it looked like when you were
just a seed in the ground.

There is the kind of silence when
he is not your lover anymore and so
he stops calling, but there is also the
kind of silence when you were together
and you would look to him for a response
when you brought to him your secrets and
your quiet sadnesses and he didn’t
answer with anything at all.


placid (adj).

3ade6eb042e553687f0fd9295b11ee75Why is patience always working so hard for my time? Why is stillness trying to find me? They, in their gentle manner, keep showing up, I see them follow me, waiting for a turn to speak. Do they not know I am busy, I am running? Do they not know I need to swallow the whole world even if it will make me blind?

hush (v).

31caba2c630d03232e83a3a3df09c505I want to climb inside your quiet. It threw me off, that's certain, the quiet in even your hands and your ease in the silent moments that drift in and out of our conversation. The quiet of your attention even, one thing at a time, it makes me aware of the buzzing in my brain and the worry, so much worry in me, some fear and some conspiracy, some hesitancy and some dismay. The quiet way you drink your coffee, sitting down. Facing forward. You do not fly around your apartment, throwing lunch together, or trying to find a matching pair of socks, coffee mug following you around from room to room and getting cold. And the way your quiet gently quiets me, sshhh, it lands like a sweet spring wind kissing softly the trees on the way home.

[Picture by Kimberley Hasselbrink].

hush (n).

1169efec6d8b3b3992ce5560442baf5bThat is often the problem - we know not easily how to be silent, and still. Both, together, that is the thing. I know how to be silent for a time, but you can be sure my hands will be kept busy. I can be still, but I will learn to fill the stillness with shouting or chatter or worry (which, I suppose, is not still at all). If we were to be silent and still we would be in the posture to hear it, and feel it - all of the earth resounding in song, and in dance, swaying us, drifting us toward truth, toward Home.