disturbing silences

excersizes in silence, i've mentioned in the past. where i silence my words. that is not nearly enough any more. i generally don't have a lot to say, verbally, and don't say much. unless, of course, you ask the right questions. very native that way.

but now i'm acutely aware of the noisy ways i conduct myself. placing a pen on the table with a slight echo. walking through the apartment and the floorboards creak. lumbering up and down the stairs to the washer.

what's so different,

my best friend asked.

didn't you make that kind of noise in texas?

yes.

i said,

but there, the silence permeated everything and seemed to absorb my noiseiness. here, i don't want to disturb what little silence there is.

because some moments now, just moments, sometimes five or six consecutive, i can hear myself think.

then a car alarm goes off (one was sounding in the adjoining parking lot, so fun to live near parking lots), and i got this idea for a poem. about how i'd like to go out there and beat the car with a two by four but then i'd likely get locked up and be put in a cell with a large talkative woman who goes on and on and on never allowing me a moment's peace. i'd kill her in my frustration and be there for life, and a long string of talkative types would cycle through, i'm sure.

seems that's the way of it. talkers need someone to listen (i do too on occassion, believe me. but it makes a difference to me who the person is listening). some folk are indiscriminate about blathering on and on. they seem to ask questions to hear themselves answer. their opinions are paramount.

i don't have many of these types of people in my life, thank God. but i notice, my husband isn't a real talker either, so he gets around people and they just open up. spill their guts. but that is a different kind of talking, i think.

so back to my conversation with my best friend. she said,

what is the difference between there and texas?

i dwelt in silence there. i try to create silence here. it ain't easy. i fail most of the time because of my loud habits and lifestyle. but i am noticing how my noise pollution, not of voice, but of action can be curbed. i can emulate the nuns who move silently through the cloister.

closing doors with a gentle click. lighting up stairs with their sensible shoes, and i don't think it is the shoes that make for silence, but it is the way they carry themselves. the way they conduct themselves throughout their lives. very mindful.

they prepare the eucharist without sound.

they do most everything without disturbing silences.

that is my aim. to silence my offensive clamouring. to shut the dampers of my internal furnance which blazes on and on churning me so fast through my days that i can't slow down and contemplate my actions and control the sounds those actions create. to be as mindful of my actions, as i am now, of my words. to emulate silence. and live silently, even amidst clamour.

nuns are my model here. i always aim for the stars.