The Virtue of Silence
In front of the fireplace, one has the feeling of being toasted. Like marshmallow, except that I don't melt inside and my skin hasn't yet dried to a sweet crisp.
I am undecided about many things. What this website is, what the other website is, what my words mean, what do all the scribbles littered across my many notebooks mean, and perhaps if they have to mean anything at all.
"What does it mean to be an artist?" was the question just before lunch. Is a writer an artist? I think sometimes not, perhaps often not, but that is only a gut feeling. We would have to define art, which is ludicrous in itself because it holds a different meaning for everyone; it then makes no sense to discuss. The question should probably be, "What is art for you?"
Language is tool by which we communicate with one another, and it would not be wrong to say that the tools you have could limit your imagination about what you can create. Language is a means for expression.
For me, to write is to express, to speak is to express. Yet so often we forget the virtue of silence. To be silent enables one to listen, to be silent enables time for thoughts to take seed. A pause in a sentence indicates an importance and a completeness of a phrase, a pause in presenting an argument gives weight to the essential idea.
I wished I remember who it was who said that the 'rest' is the most important symbol in music, simply because it gives definiton to the time value of notes, which in turn gives rise to rhythm. And what is music without rhythm?
Words which are not written, words which are not spoken have as much value as words which are uttered, and words which unwittingly tumble out of our mouths - silence defines what is by being what is not.
28 December 2002, Saturday, 1:42 AM
Alter ego of dandruff
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