This year I chose the word “silence” as my one little word to live by.
I’ve been mindful of my word.
I’ve put it into practice.
I’ve found moments that were void of all things and it has guided me.
It’s been getting colder out and I can’t help but feel the silence in the air.
I had a moment the other day that was silent but I needed a voice so I could slice on Tuesday. I wrote in silence and pictured what that moment was looking like. This is what I wrote:
You took my words and threw them into the air, out of context, out of order. They fell into piles. Words that didn’t belong to one another now lay next to each other.
Standing over them like a giant I take my enormous hands and try to piece them back together but I fumble with the tiny strips of paper. Winds begin to blow and the little bits begin to scatter in even different directions. I try to step on them but they get stuck under my toes and flap around, eventually tearing, leaving some without letters. I grab at the scraps as they fly like confetti into the clouds. I listen to the skitter of dead leaves on the blacktop and watch the remaining words swirl in a furry like a storm. I look to the leafless tree that hovers over them, wondering, waiting for new words to bud as my hair blows over my eyes. I squint through the wind noticing one speck of white flattened on the trunk. I step slowly forward, pushing the hair out of my eyes as the gray wind threatens to take the white speck. Reaching out I peal the tiny strip of white paper from the trunk. It has three letters on it, Y, O, U. You. I hold the word to my heart as my hair lays flat against my back and I stand in the silent shadow of the tree limbs. You, it’s all you need.
I like to think that moment was a practice in wisdom, in silence.
Daughter, sister, wife, mother, teacher, and writer.