The Rich Vegetarian

An Examined Life

Menu Close

Tag: quiet (page 1 of 2)

Talk is Easy

“Don’t you feel that there is such a lot of chatter going on all the time?”
“Like you are surrounded by a bunch of chatty folks all the time?”
“No, it isn’t just that.”

Talk is easy, quick and cheap
You can talk through the day until the sun sets, and then all night long.
Start the chatter and careless banter as day breaks,
Then there is TV and talk radio, interviews and people holding forth endless opinions,
And the grocery store and yoga studio, salon and gym.

It is on Facebook and Instagram, Twitter and Tumblr,
We all have something to say, our voices count, our opinions matter.

Even when the voices have died down, the talk continues.

Unceasing, relentless, changing and evolving, yes.

“Let me speak, I have been silent so long
I want to share too, I have been quiet for years,
I would like for someone to hear me too.”

I wish it was quieter, I really do.

Home Alone

I always thought that to be home meant to be alone. For, when you are truly home, you are utterly by yourself. No friend or lover, parent or a child, soulmate, pet, not even God… well, at least how we like to define God. No, S/H/e/It isn’t there either.

To be home means to be entirely and utterly by oneself.

I, for one, never had an issue with that.

Even as a child, I liked spending the long hours by myself. Books were the next best option. My sister and my mother were great companions too. Perhaps because they liked their space and quiet as well. So there we were, left to our individual wiles and devices (not the electronic type), utterly happy (or not), pottering around in our own little worlds.

There have been quiet evenings when I have wondered if company would be the antidote to that dull, brooding feeling. But no, not really, I don’t think so. I am not sure if that gnawing restlessness would have been fixed by people and conversation. Yes, there have been times when I have desired for people and conversation, deep and light. I have wanted for bright, warm lights, good home-cooked food, a warm corner to curl in, a cozy ride home with P.

But most evenings, home is alone and alone is home, and it feels perfect and abundant.

The World that Beckons

There’s a world that beckons inward,
A space of quiet, non-threatening, plain and clean

I started going there as a child, I think?
I felt non-judged, felt like myself
(Whatever “myself” meant at that point in space and time)

I thought everyone had this kinda place
Surely, everyone needed it?

It took me a while before I got it:
That space was my own, my gift, a place I crafted for myself, maybe before I was even born
For refuge, for respite, a place to sleep and dream and let the tears flow

I still go there
every day
It is my own

And I like its neutrality

As a child, I felt it welcoming
Now I appreciate neutrality even more

Walls are pale grey-blue
Air flows in and out
There are windows, but none really
I feel the sun, the light and warmth

I hear the water

Is it a beach? A silent forest? Atop a mountain?

Are those clouds floating by, misting over?

Birdsong, chai, sounds of silence.