I have come to dread
The things in my head
For they run thirsting for blood
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Night-time Monsters
Speaking Too Little, Too Much
An artist has to understand silence
An artist has to create a space for silence to enter his work
Silence is like an island in the middle of a turbulent ocean -Marina Abramović
So….. how does one get to the island?
Verbosity comes easy to me, and unfortunately, there’s no shortage of words to be found in my being.
Over the past few years, my sisters and I have increasingly recognized my need to be both succinct and precise (when I speak, when I think, when I write…when I text!), for the sake of my future livelihood.
My sisters often rightly say, “the length or loudness of one’s message does not substantiate its actual quality or substance”.
Consequently, pithiness has become that far-reaching virtue of mine to cultivate since end of 2016.
Granted, this is easier said than done, and it conjures up from me many a sigh as I attempt (with the ferocity of Hercules as he battles off the great beast!) to remediate my little big habit.
So what can I do, except write a haiku?:
“My mind moves too quick
Can I really control it?
Silence, come quickly.”
I thank my mother for never telling me I should become a poet. That would have been a lie anyways.
Echoing David Ogilvy, king of witty and considered locutions, I plead tonight for endurance, for charm, for silence.
Bises,
Soo
“There are many fine things which we cannot say if we have to shout,” Henry David Thoreau
