When you say nothing at all
Listening to Keith Whitley's "When You Say Nothing At All" and ... for a newer country song, this is pretty nice. Certainly got me into a writing mode - at least, for a little while. Reminds me of many times in my life when I've witnessed silence offering more communication than every word in the dictionary ever could. It's amazing - we're born with silent intuition, a sense of what others are thinking. Then we learn body language, to speak and write and understand using whatever language we're brought up with, and grammar to say things "properly." Many of us learn additional languages as a means of communicating with even more people.
Yet the basis of interpersonal relationships is still the unsaid, the unspoken, the silence that penetrates even the coldest of hearts. There is no "proper" way for this silent communication to speak. A look of love, passion, excitement, lust, hate, dismay, depression. It's all there in the eyes, registering in the face, projecting an aura of itself onto the subject at hand to communicate what only it can say. The words we utter from day to day are so inadequate to cover the full range of emotion behind the eyes, deep in the soul. They simply do not describe us at all.
Why, then, do we have language at all? For years I've struggled to express myself, to make people understand me, to get it across that I'm more than what I appear to be on the surface. I've attempted short stories, longer stories which I could never seem to finish, and of course poetry. My ramblings are perhaps the most honest of all, merely recording what I'm thinking as I think. Yet I still feel misunderstood, like I'm a mere sum of my parts to so many people. As if everyone has set up blinds on their windows so I can't see them. In effect, they've had to peep through at me by lifting one blind slightly, disturbing a wealth of dust and thus obstructing what should be a perfect view. So, they see me with narrowing restrictions in an otherwise wonderfully clear window.
Whoa, and I just fell asleep at the keyboard. I somehow broke away from the mesmerizing stars, but I've a feeling that evading them will not last long. This in mind, I shall continue this thought in my dreams.
Feeling a bit more ponderous than techie,
~nvnohi
Yet the basis of interpersonal relationships is still the unsaid, the unspoken, the silence that penetrates even the coldest of hearts. There is no "proper" way for this silent communication to speak. A look of love, passion, excitement, lust, hate, dismay, depression. It's all there in the eyes, registering in the face, projecting an aura of itself onto the subject at hand to communicate what only it can say. The words we utter from day to day are so inadequate to cover the full range of emotion behind the eyes, deep in the soul. They simply do not describe us at all.
Why, then, do we have language at all? For years I've struggled to express myself, to make people understand me, to get it across that I'm more than what I appear to be on the surface. I've attempted short stories, longer stories which I could never seem to finish, and of course poetry. My ramblings are perhaps the most honest of all, merely recording what I'm thinking as I think. Yet I still feel misunderstood, like I'm a mere sum of my parts to so many people. As if everyone has set up blinds on their windows so I can't see them. In effect, they've had to peep through at me by lifting one blind slightly, disturbing a wealth of dust and thus obstructing what should be a perfect view. So, they see me with narrowing restrictions in an otherwise wonderfully clear window.
Whoa, and I just fell asleep at the keyboard. I somehow broke away from the mesmerizing stars, but I've a feeling that evading them will not last long. This in mind, I shall continue this thought in my dreams.
Feeling a bit more ponderous than techie,
~nvnohi
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home