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Location: Dublin, Republic of, Ireland

Friday, 9 February 2007

How I survive in the silence

Silence is my eloquent teacher. I huddle in its evocative grace. I listen more. I don't boast of anything.
I also don't know when I discarded my verbosity. Or an open friendly manner. Possibly when the inclination to study philosophy drew closer. And recent episodes. Yes, definitely that.
It sort of pulls you away, warns you to be cautious, closes you up.
Suddenly, the real knowledge hits you.
Not everyone is your friend. Not everyone likes you.
They may appear to like you even when they don't.
The hardest lesson of all.

And so discard the chattiness, I long did.
A penchant for chattiness, may have its drawbacks.
It steals intrigue. Or adds on to an all-knowing alacrity that drums up self-righteousness.
Which all in turn invents an ancient dexterity, making a person sound older than they are.
Never show you have the correct answers. Don't preach. Don't be self-righteous.
It makes you sound old. Remember.
I have been guilty of all 3.
I no longer want to be any of these things.

Now, in the quiet, I listen more. I watch, observe and file my conclusions like a neat library shelf cushioned in my heart.
All rest well, I say.
I read people all the time but they don't know this.
How do I know I'm a survivor?
Because I'm still swimming.
I am the the universe's baby swimmer in a womb that's as magnificent as an ocean.
I swish about with the passion of a mermaid's tail.
When you hold your breath through a quagmire of feelings that playact an electric shock and still rise for air, then you know you're a survivor.
I'm still coming up for air...still swimming.
In the silence, I glide untainted, along my destiny.

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