Silence is supposed to be golden, right?
Right now it feels like a lot of lead.
All my life I’ve enjoyed good conversation, and for decades I would wait and savour the few I’ve had like precious treasures – playing each one back and revelling in just how involving it was, how it made my mind feel alive.
And then for some time, it seemed I had found an almost endless supply of it. I could be assured of a daily dose – sometime a day-ful dose. Who knew a person could get addicted to conversation? I didn’t.
Which is perhaps why now that my ‘supply’ has been rudely cut off, I find these odd hours of the night stretching endlessly away in silence…only for morning to bring more quiet.
I have a new respect for silence of the wise, but I find I am nowhere near able to achieve it.
The empty minutes seem only emptier. How pathetic that everyone around me seems to be able to find people they can talk to, and yet I am too fussily particular to be able to get along with even one fellow human being.
tick tock tick tock tick tock….