Silence is relative to the situation one has at hand. Our silence in terms of communication of a tangible sense is one thing and that we can measure. What I will ask is how often did you think of something and put it aside to remember later and then when the time came forgot? Did some of those ideas make it to the other side did they cross over the distance and land upon the other’s mind? We shall see what did and what did not as we wander inside what unfolds now.
In the silence that has echoed over the past few days the sounds dripped carefully in a steady patter of drops slowly moving from one side of the page to another. I can go back over the days myself and create a nuance for you but it would probably be best if I just linked you in. Take the link and wander the pages for the days that you believed yourself to be silent and see for yourself if you truly were as silent as you believed yourself to be. Silence is not an absence but an opportunity to speak directly without the chaos of other voices or the interruption of other souls. When silence falls upon us it is our chance to really get to the core or the soul of the issues.
The medicine of time is for me, being a most impatient sort, the worst medicine I can be given. I can take the pills and the fuzzy brain and the tired muscles and the weak limbs all in due course of getting me to the saddle once more. What I struggle with and strain against is the idea of being patient with time that strolls about before me whilst I have to remain in the stillness in a slow heal mode. It chafed at me one and then the other and slowly I grow angry with the situation and I spiral up to not wanting to wait but wait I must for the alternative is to tossed back into the cycle of waiting even longer still. In this way the medicine is far worse than the pain it is supposed to cure. I have in all ways objected to cures that cause more harm than the disease they are employed to cure.
The advice to emulate another author while good with a beginner and I like the concept of using the same publisher because they have similar styles could be great information, the road of the individual for me is the road worth traveling. What you never want to be is another want to be author of this reference. What you want to be is who you are not another James Joyce want to be. So while you can take some of the advice and some of the ideas, be who you are. That uniqueness is something that will separate you from others and if you are successful or not you did so on your own, not by trying to be someone you are not.
The idea that time has anything to do with anything is not such a conscious thought. Time is a measure of time, nothing more nor less. It is not the miles we travel, but the mileage we have put on. Each of us weathers the storms of life differently. So at our ages respectfully we will meet souls who have weathered the adventure easily and others who have weathered it in a much more difficult sense. We will fall somewhere on that scale of well we are not dead so we are not on that end of it and we are not pristine so we are not on that end. We are where we are based on the adventure of our days and our choices and for lack of a better way our fortunes and misfortunes. Time passes and we have birthdays we celebrate, I like the Alice version of un-birthdays, because we get a lot more of those to celebrate. A very merry un-birthday to you!
Another day delights the senses and it’s a Sunday. I enjoy Sundays as they are the last of the leisure days before the work week unfolds anew and for the fact that more often than not it truly is a day of rest. I leave Sundays as they should be, silent and peaceful. Well except for what is going on in my head. Some of you have managed to unfold the cipher of the missing or empty letters quite easily and some still struggle with figuring out what is there and what is left out. Each of you knows me in a different light or by a separate candle so to speak, so each brings to the table a different shard or peace of me. If each took their shard and laid it on the table they could produce an image of me that was a distorted perception of the truth and yet it would be the truth from that perspective. How can something be both real and distorted? Easily for each carries a shard and applies it to the belief they have. What distorts the perception of reality is their belief. So as each has wandered through the letters and found a peace or two among the ruins, have you been able to piece it all together? Have you been able to find the messages locked in the words? Have you been able to seize upon the peace you bring? Have you then been able to slip in between the words and go one step down? Finally have you been able to read the message that is implied in the words both written and more importantly the words left out? This wandering expanse of questions takes into account that when the writer writes they are leaving evident signs of their intentions and practical views of the world. When the reader reads what is before them they can almost by degree grasp the evident from the words before them and then by degree of their belief about the author interpret the missing data. The famous what is the author saying here question of many a literary discussion. What is being said here both on the page and then between the lines of the page? What is the motivation or inspiration that pushes the words out and surrounds us? We can find the answers to those questions in one place, in the soul of the writer. If I am asked directly why I write this or that I will truthfully say I don’t think about what I write in that way and ask what does it mean to you? What it means to the reader is a more powerful response than what my intention was when I set it down upon the page. I write you read it that is the extent of the relationship or is it? Do we become the characters or the adventure and wander the edges or fringes becoming accustomed to the other self. I wonder sometimes if I am writing what is my idea or the idea of some other that has become trapped in my mind as they wandered past.
I don’t believe we give up on our dreams we just except the reality that for now they are not probable or possible. We are practical people and when we are faced with responsibilities we tend to them and let go our dreams and even our needs for the dreams or needs of others. Is this logical, some would say yes that it is a very practical approach to what is an immediate need. I am not faced with such trials as you are at the moment, so it is easy for me to say that one should hold onto their dreams. The practical me says we are a series of threads that contain dreams, reality, hopes and an assorted list of other isms. I guess what I am saying is that you are entitled to deal with your dreams however you wish to deal with them. I myself will continue to believe as I believe and apologize for being flighty and off color and an entire series of other things that I tend to be more often than not. Especially for being unintentionally un-attentive to the responses to the words I write. You may not believe as strongly in dreams as you once did and you may never again. You may never have a dream worth having again or you may. What is right now is reality that is bitter and sweet and trying to the mind. Who am I to tell you otherwise? Who am I to say anything at all about anything at all? In the best of time I was a figment of the imagination at the worst a burden to be endured. In reality I am something in between that and the cat next door. We do come to terms with our situations and we do find our way. What we lose for a time is the ability to hope, to have dreams beyond what is right in front of us. We dream for a time of silence or a moment to ourselves. We dream of having a bit extra of this or that and nothing more. Gone are the dreams we once held tight at least until the present reality is taken from us and that we hope is not for some time.