Writing is almost exhausting work at times. Since I am now involved in a number of projects, I find myself needing to just sit back a bit to recoup a bit of energy before moving on to yet another writing task.
Unfortunately, like too many others, I find myself slipping into a trance of silence. Looking out the windows of my home, that silence is magnified with empty streets with only a rare half ton truck causing ripples in the odd puddle. And then, aside from fleeting thoughts blowing through my mind like old leaves blowing down an empty street. I hear my own silence. For too many hours a day, not a sound leaves my mouth.
There is a problem with this silence. It is at this time that the mind screams in protest and the barriers we have built over a lifetime to hide our shadows, begin to crumble. The silence begins to turn into a cacophony of unvoiced noise. And like others, I turn to social media in hopes of drowning out that deafening silence.
This morning, this video-song appeared, The Sounds of Silence. In the 1960s and 70s, I played this song as a folk musician. I was a solitary singer in a world that was deafening with life. I stood outside, at least mentally and emotionally. I embraced that silence. It helped me silence the inner voices that wanted me to remember a myriad of abuses of my childhood. The song was therapeutic. I then listened to this song again this morning and discovered a different message, one that was prophetic, one that talked about humanity as a whole, not about me as a point of singularity. And then, I knew that I had to send this song out to you. It is strange beyond measure that this came to me on Good Friday. And that is all I have to say about that.
Life is deeper and richer than one could ever imagine. I don’t want to waste whatever days remain to me. I dare to live as authentically as I can, and that includes my writing, my relationships, and not hiding behind clothing pretending to be a clone of what is acceptable. There is no time to waste in embracing one’s self.