Silence

My high school English teacher, Mr. Thwaites, challenged me to take pen to paper and write in the silence of darkness. When I said I wouldn’t be able to see what I was writing he said use the light from the window, the light from under your door.

I did what he challenged and wrote two pages of ramble thoughts watching dust specks float around. I still remember the tiny threads of my braided rug. I don’t need to close my eyes to see the bright light coming in from under the bedroom door. Who knew there was that much light low to the ground.

It has been a long time since I last listened to silence. Even now the fan from my laptop’s cooling pad is the only noise, but it is noise. Writing in the dark is difficult when using a computer. Turn the monitor off and who knows what keys you’re striking, let alone the clacking of my keyboard.

I take pen to paper and end up lost in the silence, staring out the window. My mind wanders. Sometimes it wanders to story ideas…I look out of my window, it’s two in the morning, someone is standing there looking up at my window…looking out now at 2:41 pm and I wander what if there was no one else left, but me…what if my gargoyle statue started to talk to me…what if I walked out my front door and never stopped walking.

It’s St. Patrick’s Day…are the wee folk watching me?

Silence…I challenge you.

15 thoughts on “Silence”

  1. I NEVER have silence. I have Objective Tinnitis…or is it Subjective? I can't remember, but I hear a noise in my head 24/7 that sounds like a pissed off bumble bee. The reason mine is unique…others can hear it if they put their ear to mine.

    People have pulled away and looked at me with raised brows. "How do you stand that?" they ask. Simple…as long as I hear it, I know I'm alive.

    Entertaining post. Thanks for sharing the link.

  2. I like silence to write, but I have never had much success with writing in the dark. I have written that way at times when the words wouldn't stay away, but I will definitely try this when I can. I used to love writing outside under the trees where all you could hear was bird song and it was so peaceful. I did that when I was at Manhattanville and though there were people around it was so quiet. I liked your post and I understand the loss of your grandmother at holidays. I lost my mother 21 years ago March 15th and nothing is the same without her. Just today I found myself thinking about a recipe of hers she always made.

  3. Thanks, Ginger. My dad and grandmother had a touch of Tinnitis. I understand it can be quite annoying, but I've never heard of being able to hear someone else's.

    Last week a news show was explaining Tinnitis…our brain voids silence so replaces it with these "pissed off bumble bees."

    One thing I have noticed about silence…there's always something creating a sound.

  4. Our hearts never forget…tomorrow will officially be gone 6 years.

    I used to write my poems in a bowling alley waiting/watching my mom 🙂

    Now, I'm too easily distracted. I'm also uncomfortable shutting my door, but once I do, I like it. Share mood today 🙂

    Thanks LionMother (love your nic, always have 😉

  5. Quite a few levels of you, aren't there my dear?

    You hit on a cord within my soul on this post. I should've guessed your poetry leanings. I did some amateur stuff growing up and whereas I don't write poetry much these days, your reflections brought out the beautiful music that only poetry can make.

    Thanks Chris, you've touched my heart again, so… for just one one fleeting second of time, will you allow my thoughts to merge with yours in that silent room and know you're not alone as you ponder thoughts of your grandmother?

    Love ya.

  6. After my own Grandmother died, I felt so small in the huge bedroom she and I had shared. Everywhere I looked I saw Nonnie. I never knew your heart could hurt so much. Sure I knew the flesh could scream when it's been lashed by a beyond angry hand, but the heart, inside the protective armor of my own rib cage?

    When Nonnie died I understood the term, "I was driven to my knees." But I was only eleven and still had no idea I would never fully rise from those knees.

    In my room, my gaping room that echoed with the sounds of the laughter and trust forged between Grandmother and young girl, I knew I needed contact or go slowly and irrevocably insane.

    Armed with notepad, pencil, and flashlight, I made a tent beneath my covers, climbed in and wrote to Nonnie. There in the minimal light of darkness, I wrote and told her how much I love her, miss her, and I promised to one day make her proud.

    Nonnie was my family…my ONLY family inside that big house. She occupied the center of my world, and IS the reason I cared about being all that I could be.

    Night after night I wrote my letters to her, telling her about the good parts of the day, and the parts that left me hurt, angry, and more than a tad confused.

    In the physical world, Nonnie was not there to explain all the things young girls sudenly confront with the changes of maturity, but within my tent and just the faint illumination of my flashlight, Nonnie lived on sharing the darkness of night and the many moods of a young girl who loved her, missed her, and ached for her.

    I still do. I hope I have made her proud she gave this little girl unconditional love, and I pray that I am honoring the storyteller in her with the storyteller within me that is now sharing our legacy with the world.

    I love you, Nonnie.

  7. What a neat idea. Have never tried it, but it does sound like something neat to give the muse a workout. Thanks for sharing.
    Charlie

  8. Try it, Charlie. It was an interesting experiment, which as you can see I still remember. Think if I did it now all I would think is…gotta dust 🙂

  9. I used to do this a lot. I mean to, but life keeps distracting me. You're right, Chris. Silence is good. When things get crazy I actually challenge myself to see how long I can go without thinking, and instead just absorb the silence.

    Very nice blog.

  10. Nice post Chris – I've taken this challenge at a retreat. I stayed in a cabin by myself out in the middle of no-where. Friends were near in their own cabins, but at night, in the middle of the woods, no phone, nothing but silence and a beautiful fireplace with dancing flames.
    It was the deepest, soulful writing I've ever done. AND, I made sure I go there at least once a year…it's a spiritual thing, a lovely time of recharging and getting back to basics.
    I love silence.

  11. Aha, strange you should mention 'wee folk'. For, the 'wee folks' live in my garden and they had this big wedding last year. Ask Joylene, she knows I'm not kidding.
    Have a happy weekend and happy writing 🙂
    In kindness, Gary.

  12. Hi, Joylene, Kay Dee, and Gary…sorry it took me so long to come back.

    Right now I could really do with some silence and some stillness. Today's post proves that LOL.

    After I wrote about silence, I started to think about night and darkness. Just sitting by my bedroom window, in the dark, watching outside. Can one be silent in the light or does it need the cover of darkness?

    And thank you Joylene.

    Gary…the wee folk are always watching 🙂

    Chris

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