(This is meant to be read to music, so if you can, open this link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oq3y1Qkn9Vs in a different window and let it play while you follow these letters.)
It may seem like I always have many words. In fact, for the best part of a year, I seem to have always had so many words.
It is not quite so. And most importantly, for the first time in my life, I’ve come to know what it’s like not to have any words left.
Perhaps that was the lesson…(for a crazy girl who always seems to write so much about this thing called love, as if it were the most important thing in the world)
…to learn not about light, or more words…but about silence.
An odd choice for a lesson.
Tonight was one of those times when I had no words left. There was only one image: Jaime Lannister with red rimmed eyes brimming with tears…perhaps with love, perhaps with shame…standing quietly in that doorway, finally home.
I’ve read the books, I am anxious for season 4 next year, but tonight, this one image made me wish the story would stop right here, with this scene, so that this one man would somehow get to create a beautiful happiness in his life…somehow, in all that mess, a simple, beautiful happiness.
Without words, silence opened to receive music. And one piece led me to the next. It all felt like a midnight swim in the ocean. A rather strong breeze, more daring than the usual evening breeze came into the room from the darkness outside, as if just in time to meet the music and carry it in its invisible arms. A reunion perhaps…a dance.
I could not see the wind of course, or the music. Just as I had no words. But I saw them with those things we call feelings, the eyes of the soul.
Two little candle flames danced too. Next to them, the pink peonies heavy with their sweet perfume of hope and summer…and the one daisy among them…swayed with a gentle, soft laziness.
How we try, with so many words to bring answers, to explain, inspire, comfort and heal…
…to plead with the gods for a bit of mercy…soften their immortal hearts by revealing our many wounds…and plead for our little and big dreams…for a chance, for grace.
Sometimes we wonder how we have failed with our words…what else could we say, or say better to unmake error and grief, and finally shape a little miracle.
But what we seek is not in words. It’s in their absence…in a silence that fills with music carried in the arms of an unexpected evening breeze entering our rooms from the darkness outside. A prayer…a song and invisible dance, in all this mess, for a simple, beautiful happiness.
You are not reading words. This is a silence speaking.
Perhaps it is not so odd a lesson after all.