The Art of Shut Up

I have been keeping quiet. Very, very quiet. I’m not hunting rabbits but I feel like I should be with my stealth behavior and irrepressible need for silence. The unwillingness to talk, talk, talk about it is getting easier by the day; day by day we’re almost to the point where I prefer the not talk. The inability to articulate is poisoning the well. I feel the shut up is becoming shut down.

I’m reading a book about rape and incest. While I’m not planning to review it on this side I have a feeling a lot of what I would say HERE is going to make it’s way THERE, if that makes sense. The personal is going to blur into blathering on a book review, of all things.
A friend has a secret that deserves to be kept it only to keep things less than complicated. But, I stand on a different side. I disagree with her and that has made this particular silence hard to hold onto. When I was in her situation I wanted anyone and everyone who has ever loved me to be witness to something good in my life. It was hard to pick and chose faces without thinking of failures. A sort of See, I Told You So to disprove the doubting Valentines. I found love and dammit it could keep me, too.
I still stifle grief about my cousin. My visit to his haunt has touched my heart but I still can’t write about it. I’m paralyzed by what I’m afraid I’ll feel. The numb of not talking makes it mystical and myth. To verbalize the hurt is to admit to the reality. I’m just not ready.
Same with the autumn trip to Monhegan. I can gush about late night books propped up on bent knees. I can admire the wind and the rain but I can’t tell you about the soul suck I experienced. I can’t tell you about the inexplicable tears that dried on the wind before they could wet my chin. There are no words for the rush of exhilaration as silent blue herons soared over my head. No idea where they were going except to say they took a part of me with them.

So I am quiet. Waiting to see when the words will form and what I’ll actually say when they do. I have shut up long enough to hear my soul sigh. Now I’m waiting for it to sing.

Categories: Confessional, life, Monhegan | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

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