Things I’m Working on…Silence.
I am an extrovert by nature. Silence is not my go-to method of communication. I want to hear the words, feel their cadence as they bounce to my ear drum, sending sparks of inspired electricity to my brain. I want to repeat them, reword them, share them, change them, and then share them again.
If you were to meet Oz, you would find that he is an introvert. (What can I say, opposites attract.) Unless he is with someone he is very familiar with in public, he will go quiet and observe the world around him.
You can imagine my frustration sometimes. I want to see the world through his eyes, but his mouth won’t let me.
Like the other day, I was helping Oz with a huge project. I had previously assisted him with it and had a lot of fun. But that day, he just wasn’t there. Physically, he was taking up space and moving, but not as fast as the mental map he was trying to follow. After trying and failing (repeatedly) to get into his head (I was mostly concerned that I had committed a serious transgression or that there was a health issue occupying his mind), I put my earbuds in and listened to my own music. I figured that he needed the silence as well as the company. And that’s all right with me.
Later he thanked me for my patience, and explained his concerns: his current job, his classes, his health, and quiet a few other things. It was surprising and a little overwhelming. With so many things troubling him, silence seemed like the right rhythm to employ, again. All I could do is hug him and hope that my strength was enough. Arms wrapped tight around him, I looked at our shadows on wall. For the first time, I was taller than him. We were so still we became part of the melody of silence around us.
I know I haven’t mastered it yet, but I am happy to be working on silence.
Things I Love…Poetry
I do love poetry. I love collecting it (I have my own little anthology of my favorite pieces of poetry), I love sharing poetry with others (sometimes a well-timed poem has the wisdom needed to solve any problem), but mostly, I love reading it out loud.
(And in case you were wondering, I find it extremely torturous when someone who can’t read poetry out loud insists upon it. It is like a poorly tuned violin concerto to my brain and heart.)
I recently gave Oz a poem. Okay, it was a book if you must know. He was really struggling with this concept of time and how on earth we, as humans, can ever have enough of it. So my solution was to make a book of quotations and inspirations for him. I gave it to him in the car.
He stopped to pump gas and while the tank was filling, he walked to the passenger side to talk with me, found the book, and opened it.
He started to read out loud.
Let out a small gasp of surprise. Oz can read poetry! Really well, at that.
He was just over a stanza in when I interrupted, flustered and in shock. “I….uh….stop. You need to stop. You need to kiss me right now.”
He smiled and was happy to oblige.
the goal of living is to grow)
forgetting why,remember how
in time of lilacs who proclaim*** insert kiss here***
the aim of waking is to dream,
remember so(forgetting seem)
in time of roses(who amaze
our now and here with paradise)
forgetting if,remember yes
in time of all sweet things beyond
whatever mind may comprehend,
remember seek(forgetting find)
and in a mystery to be
(when time from time shall set us free)
forgetting me,remember me
It’s such a shame I can’t reciprocate though. I somehow don’t think me reading computer code out loud would elicit the same response. But I’ll let you know.
In the mean time I’ll keep interrupting poetry and finding more surprising things that I love about Oz.