 |
I am not sure where the kick and the hug came from, but I
sense something inside me, all knotty and stitched-up begin to unravel in their
wake.
For a person who evaluates the moral fabric of her day as ‘good’
or ‘bad’ based on the number of words produced on a page, an implication that
more can be accomplished through silence than all those syllables stitched
together into verbs and nouns, simile and hyperbole, which, in turn, are slapped
into sentences that pile up into
paragraphs and chapters… well, it’s unnerving.
But, the thought is also strangely…hmmmm…. how shall I put
it…?
Restful?
Even liberating…?
For when the burden of the incessant word-production is off
one’s shoulder, that one is freed, is liberated to… try something radically different...
... something counter-cultural and...
... truly revolutionary...
Something outrageously unhip...
... like sitting back and ...
...listening...
...really listening...?
Or at least begin to do so...
For even I, the dummiest of all dummies know that listening, as easy as it may appear, might be one of the hardest human activities ever invented... right up there with resting. And I can tell you first hand that one can’t really listen and hear a thing as long as his or her mouth is constantly moving.
No comments:
Post a Comment