Fleeting moments of unadulterated silence

Fleeting moments

We have been given a late summer this year, yet my heart isn’t letting go of winter peels.
Joy struggles in the shadows, planning an escape that bounces off the walls of life. Of the mind.

Happiness is truly within.

Sun might enhance the rainbows of our soul, like contrast adding sharpness to a photo defining its contours but it isn’t the essential ingredient.

Yet, I inherently know delight lies in wait, lurks around the corner. A lifetime doesn’t vanish into oblivion.

I slow my pace in all good summer tradition, setting aside guilt (for imposing my will to those around me) living days moment by moment, listening to the pulses of nature, savouring every sound, celebrating the notion of nothingness surprised by the calmness that proceeds, appreciating the wonders of wildlife accompanying us wherever we are, on a daily basis gone unnoticed…

We are born to think motion is the only motor of survival, the only form of sanity but we forget to retire for a while from the hubbub to calm the nervous energy that comes with it.

We still have more than a month left. I know this might last no longer than the ink absorbed unto this page but I won’t forget so easily those fleeting moments of unadulterated silence & invite you to do the same 🙂

P.s
A very pleasant summer to you all!!

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Where there is absence of noise, silence goes unappreciated.

Those words popped into my mind this morning when silence was as thick as knee deep snow & as deafening as nature before a tsunami.
No-thing interrupted its vacuousness. There was no possible way of measuring it. That is when I realised that whenever I wrote about the quietude peaceful spots provide us with, it involved a symphony with brief in-betweens.
The sea being among my favourites, roars many seasons a year. Intervals minimal in comparison with its rambunctious charm.
I remembered the poem & essay I had written a while back, on silence too.
All involved a lot of noise.
The poem was literally crackling with outdoor’s natural interruptions & “Fiat Silentium” was about distant noises magnifying the cocoon of bliss I had found myself in.
Silence on its own is dead whereas accompanied becomes an entity. Each & everything on this planet comes chaperoned, hence, the expression “it’s a package deal”. People,objects,circumstances,emotions… I haven’t yet seen anything shining without a contrast or a system of support sustaining its light.
Silence goes very far where noise is concerned… 😉

Have a great noisy week!
You can check the posts I mentioned if you feel like it…
https://oawritingspoemspaintings.wordpress.com/2014/04/04/through-noise-do-we-decipher-silence/#comments
https://oawritingspoemspaintings.wordpress.com/2012/09/10/and-there-was-silence-fiat-lux/

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Going in circles, lying in wait and questioning Sep. 2012 ( Oa essay )

©copyright2013owpp

As you see this essay was written a few months ago but I go with the idea that my experience might help someone out there and in that way, take out the positive from the negative, even though some will debate about an experience being negative or not 🙂

Going in circles…
——————-

How do we escape those furious bouts of eating. Why do we have to put the rage of our emotions in food?
Don’t we realize the grave we are digging by such behavior, do we feel our heart beating furiously, our breathing heavier by the second?
Illness is feared by so many yet common sense evaporates into thin air when confronted with food.
Death is a subject practically taboo today, we are so afraid of it but, don’t we realize we are shortening our lives?
How is it possible that we are perfectly rational human beings but totally oblivious to reality when dealing with food?
Somebody in their right sense of mind would never mutilate their body the way we do. We become self-destructive to the extreme and call it “spoiling ourselves-taking a break- letting loose- chilling- taking it easy or taking care”.

Taking CARE of ourselves?!

How could we possibly ever think of it in those terms when, we see our body swelling and ourselves sliding down emotionally to a bottomless pit?
Is this the insanity Oa talks about? Being perfectly sane in all other matters, more than anyone around until…
How do we make sense of all this? We know off-by-heart the words of wisdom, we don’t want to hear them. So, how do we pull ourselves out… Seek our H.P? We know. We do. But WE put ourselves into this mess not him.
In his great generosity he will drag us back out. We know. But why are we still stuck? Will we stay here, this time for good? Where is the energy we need, where did it disappear when we had it?

It went with that ONE bite!

That is how tricky that one bite is. Why didn’t we listen, why didn’t we stop right on time, where did our strength and determination go flying when we were challenged?
So many questions and no answers!
We think we can manage what we call “ that innocent bite “ but that is where it brought us to.
When granted abstinence, we are wearing a crown, we are bestowed with a most precious gift. We should try not to discard it at a whim.

It is easier to say no to one bite, than saying yes, to months of struggle until we muster a mountain of courage to get back on track.

The lesson is, do not throw away what is most valuable to you. Know that abstinence is not a gift we find everywhere, anytime. It is a present given seldom. After seeking, begging for it and offered with much deliberation.

Do we know when the opportunity will arise again? We do not. We lie in wait… Hoping, this time, we will be the lucky winners once again.
But uncertainty gnaws at us, it bites into our hope, bit by bit, until we find ourselves on our knees.

Why does it have to be that way, are we so used to be in “ desperation mode “ and repeat the same pattern to go back to what is familiar and comfortable even if it’s a hell-hole?
How do we and can we, erase our past-programming? Are we doomed or will we realize one day that life has so much more to offer?
Be a slave and serve our addiction or, invite freedom and joy?

We COULD grow up and see that they are the only things worth living for and ask to be given clarity of mind to make the right choices in our lives and, strength to have a lasting abstinence this time round.
The one given once in a lifetime to the few privileged…The chosen.

By him as much as by us.

Our hamster’s burial 2011

Our hamster’s burial
———————-

It was a crispy, sunny, Sunday afternoon in nineteen ninety three.

Our whole family was united under the same roof of our old car in solemn solidarity, clinging unto a battered shoe box where our hamster lay peacefully among the outdated newspapers we had provided as temporary
comfort.

Not that it made much difference to our poor deceased creature, who surely had already joined his other soul mates in hamster paradise.

But it was more for our solace than his.

We drove endlessly in search of an isolated spot, that would allow us to dig a hole for our albino pet that had taken a special place in our heart.

Living in a busy town did not make things easier. We roamed around aimlessly, trying to detect that precious empty spot.
There! Shouted our oldest, followed by an echo coming from the rest of us, where? Where?!

The answer came swiftly, On your right, can’t you see?

We darted in a single movement, to the right, our eyes lighting up at the prospect of a discovery, and, yes! It was there!…

Was this going to be the final resting place for our pet? We wondered.

We stopped, got out of the car, our children trooping out, straight and sedate as little brave soldiers.

We studied the grounds as experts would, weighing the pros and cons and finally decided against.

We were staring at a manicured lawn. A public one and therefore, liable to a fine. Besides, even without a fine, we would have never had the heart to spoil such a well tended landscape.

So, off we went, in search of wilder pastures.

After a back and forth animated verbal exchange, we deliberated our verdict. We were going out of the city to find a peaceful spot in untouched nature.
Everyone agreed it was the best solution and peace settled among our tribe.

The further we went, the more subdued we all were. We had to face the inevitable.
Tranquility descended upon the small tight space of our vehicle.

———————————–

The day had begun to fall. The sun was hiding behind dark heavy clouds and a blanket of mist hovered on top of the fields in a protective embrace.

We stood perfectly still, as if mesmerized.
This was, thee acme.

In a cowardly gesture, I inquired if anyone fancied digging a whole. It must have sounded far too brutal to their young and innocent ears because, my question collided with implacable deafening silence.
So we all went, together into action ( Mainly me! ) implicating ourselves into the mission we had endeavored to do.

It was quickly over and we drove back feeling gratified for having accomplished what we had set our mind and heart to.

How is it possible, I thought, to have gotten so fond of this little creature, when I used to be terrified of any four legged living form?
I ended up being the one helping him in his last gasps of breath…
A person, I mused, is full of surprises.

After a moment, the car slowly filled with the familiar ” music ” of sibling rivalry and I smiled at the pleasant continuation of life’s trivialities.

All was in its right place.

What is poetry to you?

William Shakespeare

Poetry to me is the elegance of a moment transmitted from the mind, to the marvel of entwined
words choreographed by the master, called inspiration.

Poetry is a way to let out all the bottled up emotional energy. It’s grabbing that second, hour,
week or month and signing it up for immortality.

Poetry is throwing out there, a heritage of love for the generations to come. It is pausing in
anticipation of auspicious times.

Poetry is letting the words find their place. It is giving them the opportunity to discover
each other in a sentence, blend or stand out in its sublimity.

Without poetry, we would not know where to put it all. It is a gift ( like many others ) to
treasure and keep alive. It is to be shared, for without giving it over, it dies. It lies in a
dark draw, in wait of the admiring glance. For cognizance in a family gathering or a wider
public.

Its viability depends on it. We don’t do it any favor to keep it possessively from the strangers
eyes.

Poetry is the essence, the core of what makes us free spirits. Deprived of it, we would have
felt as prisoners, hands tied behind our backs.

This is what poetry means to me.

What does poetry do to you?

An interlude 2010 ( A special encounter with nature’s perfection )

This was a very special encounter with nature’s perfection, which I called…

Dark & crimson…
©copyright2013owpp

An interlude
————

It is consumed and depleted that I take my car and drive the highway to reach the most exquisite ” nature spot “.

I avow. It’s not what you have in mind, when I call it by that name, but to me, it’s been the paradise I seek, when my body and soul need some healing. When it’s battered and drained from a festivity, a birth or just plain life.

It’s been twenty five years, I’ve been cradled, cushioned and protected by it’s relaxed surroundings.

I take the first exit. It slows my pace and introduces me to the quality, the heartbeat of earth. It is, by now, a ritual.The roads become narrower, cows graze the fields on either sides, houses get smaller…
I ride at my leisure passing a huge forest, the road darkening under the shadow of the tall, strong and sturdy trees. A minutes rest for my eyes against the glare of daylight and I’ve arrived at my destination.

I am greeted by a big splash of, light and dark grey ( the clouds! ) surrounded by different tones of green but, for the exception of a short straight line of dark crimson in the distance.
The lake is still. As in wait.Dark clouds loom low. Thunder rumbles in the distances.

We are, Sunday the ninth of May two thousand and ten.

The weather is perfect for me. I know I’ll have the park all to myself. People shy away from rain, whereas sunshine, makes me look for more isolated spaces. Armed with my umbrella, I take a purposeful stride and go on my usual itinerary. Which is,walking around the lake, starting on the right side.

©copyright2013owpp

Calmness, descends upon my soul, and joy fills up to the brim. I take a deep breath and glance appreciatively at the willow trees, bowing down gracefully to natures caprice.
The surroundings invite me to loosen every nerve and muscle in my body. Tensions gradually dissipates.
I go on and find, a high and wide bush of dark pink Rhododendrons in full bloom, wishing I was a skillful painter to capture on a canvas those vivid colors. But instead, I ” fish ” out of my pocket a digital camera and seize natures imprints.

Every corner of this park is embedded with memories. Some very old and some fairly recent. Just a few feet away, I see myself twenty years ago on my due date, resting on the grass, dozing off, anticipation buried deep, in the upcoming birth of our son. Further on, I climb up, a trickle of a path and find myself perched on a man-made ridge and admire the full view of the lake and forest, remembering summer days when the weather is warm and the park “buzzed” with people as bees in a hive, and enjoying this setting being as remote as one could wish for. The ones staying long enough were those looking for what I’d come for and respected the veil of peace protecting it.

I could nearly call it my own.

I absorb this special moment of tranquility and go rushing down the other side of the slope, welcomed by the scents of, Pine trees, shrubs of Yew, Laurel, Thuja, Spruce and berberry in bloom dangling as orange bells or tear drops. Every color blending, one in another. Apple green to yellow, vivid and dark green…A small bush of white Rhododendrons lying low at the back, surprises the wondering gaze.
My eyes skip from one to the other, afraid of missing out a tint. A hue.

I feel like a child in a sweet shop. Wanting to take everything in sight, stuff it in my pockets or, treasure it in the folds of a precious well used book. But again, what I do is fill my digital, feed my ” chip ” with every shape imaginable, a delicate nerve on a leaf, a tone, a glow, a bark, and if it were possible, the passion felt for so much splendor, trapped within the chambers of my heart, now released and free to take whichever path it chooses.

I saunter along, feeling blessed as I see the dark clouds, gaping and letting escape from it’s grip, a strong beam of sunlight, flooding at my feet. I close my eyes in delight at the unexpected warmth crossing my eyelids, my face. This game of hide and seek, keeps recurring throughout the day.

Knowing this place as the palm of my hand, I realize, it’s the first time, I’ve ever seen it through this angle.
Every season has it’s moment. It comes, goes. We capture it and are the sole witnesses of this living magnificence.
The breathing pattern of nature is diverse. Dependable on many factors. One of them, man’s respect towards it.

©copyright2013owpp

As I walk on, I gaze at a big, sturdy red beech tree, the rusty tinge on it’s leaves catch the light, branches hang protectively over two wooden tables and benches, for people to find shade and enjoy a picnic between friends or family. I observe the narrow path, leading to the forest, not daring to venture, just in case I might miss out on something more exiting. The lake maybe, and its reflection, the ducks swimming, indifferent to life’s constant changes, the breeze ruffling the landscape, the rare passer-by, nodding in acknowledgement…

So, I go back to the paved foot-way and go on my designed route.
As I amble, a stream of trees pass-by my eyes as in a parade. Straight, tall and ready to the order. Birch trees with it’s characteristic white bark, Oak and Beech trees, Hornbeam and plane trees… I feel happy and dizzy. I have no doubt. Nature is where we belong.

©copyright2013owpp

A little bit further is the football terrain and Lilac ” laces ” daintily the contour. A few meters on, a Holly bush, gives a Christmas touch even though months have long gone by. An Elder plant, Viburnum and Cornus all present, a wilder aspect of nature. They’re rough looking shrubs. Whereas the pink blooming of Weigelia, is a palette of sophistication and delicacy. Every step taken, is the discovery of yet, another marvel. There is never a moment of boredom. It’s a sheer delight to the contemplator.

I finally find ” our ” ghost tree which is a weeping Nootkacypress, looking like a pine tree with needles literally ” dripping ” to the ground in a haunted way. It has it’s place of honor. Right in the middle of the mini-golf. A popular national pass-time.

Being here feels like being part of a big painting project. Which unravels along the path, bit by bit, piece by piece of composed beauty, which I collect and stick together at the end, when I go back to reality. Being given the opportunity and privilege to create my (inner) masterpiece. The one I’ll pull out from my secret draw and indulge into, for a fleeting moment.

©copyright2013

I shake myself from my reverie and cross the narrow railway designed for the small steam train, ( taking children who tire easily on the way ) and recognize bamboo on the corner and Wisteria climbing up a shack.
The air is fresh and crisp. Nature unfolds itself to me. Ribes, Horse chestnut, False Holly… My lungs take in a maximum of pure oxygen then, on my right, I step unto the magical and airy sight of a field of Dandelions ready to blow away by it’s first gust of wind.

I notice on my left, a young lonesome, fragile Cherry tree, bending under the pressures of the elements. Further, a carpet of daisies greet me as the confirmation to a harsh winters closure.
I finally pass those red Beech trees with it’s crimson leaves I had noticed at the entrance and became aware of a dream coming to it’s end. I was lucky to have come at a very special time of the year. The moment, nature opens up his palette to the few and the privileged.

©copyright2013owpp

I give one last glance, before tearing myself away from a scenery I felt complete with the time, of what seemed, like the trajectory of a shooting star, promising myself to replenish my soul whenever I feel the need, and not wait for my mind and body to scream in desperation.
I find, gladly, the warmth and coziness of my car and drive back to my loved ones, a new person. Refreshed, vibrant and energized. Ready to embrace life in all it’s facets.

Yet… In wait for the next, interlude.

And there was silence! Fiat Silentium! 2010

Hello everyone!

First and foremost I’d like to thank you all for your support.
For a new blogger it’s very encouraging. I hope you’ll forgive occasional mistakes, as you can see, it’s still unfamiliar terrain.
I’d like today to give over to you an essay I wrote two years ago for an assignment.
There are some times in writing, when ones thoughts meet the pen with such easiness it takes you by surprise, but you know, the main reason
is, because it came straight from within, unto the paper. ( Keep in mind that my works are mostly fictional )
This is exactly what happened this time, I truly had pleasure creating it, enjoy!

And there was silence!
————————

Four forty five pm and I open my eyes with difficulty after a short nap which I seldom indulge into.

Five or ten minutes go by and I’m still struggling with the sensation of deep relaxation pulling me back into the fuzziness of slumber.
I was aware that something was unusual but I couldn’t define the exactitude of it’s source.
The impression of being in synchronization with the universe, was so overpowering, I allowed myself the luxury to absorb the uniqueness of the
moment however ephemeral it was to be.

The clock inevitably ticked by for another fifteen minutes,when it suddenly dawn unto me… THERE WAS SILENCE!

Now. If you would ever dare to adventure into our abode, you’d be quickly swept into the swirl of laughter, vociferous vocals, musical sounds being practiced
in the background, phones ringing, machines humming as a washer, dryer, ovens, friends visiting and we, seemingly comfortable with our noisy style of life.
Being accustomed to the frenzy we experience as a daily occurrence, you’d probably have the sensation of stepping into a cyclone or a hurricane, never to
come back again.
Which I would appreciate and infer that you come from quieter settings and upbringing.

We have amazing children ranging in the ages of teens to over twenties and we tried our best to educate them to feel and express themselves with no inhibitions.
To love and to live in it’s true sense. We sometimes enjoy indulging in vespertinal behavior but mainly, daily life quickly wins over.
I would fain admit that I’m the culprit of this boisterous lot.

Hence,my disorientation when silence tread-ed in unabated.
Having dragged myself out of my torpor, I became aware of the pulsating sounds of a world within my own, piercing my cocoon.
I could perceive the heartbeat of a vibrating town.
Cars and lorries, following the course of their traced paths… The echoes of someone dropping brusquely a metal object in their balcony…
How silence can be treacherous!
Primarily, I could cut through silence as I would a birthday cake.
It predominated and invaded the small space I found myself in. It was total and complete. Yet, as consciousness seeped in my pores, there was the recognition that,
quietude, always vibrates with sound.

It throbs and pulsates as the heart of a newborn.

Had you climbed the highest mountain, in the hope of escaping the hubbub of the so-called civilized world, you would still be encumbered by the winds resonating through the stillness,
if you wouldn’t be in the right mindset.

Silence, is noise. Forasmuch as, without it, this” testimony of life ” would’ve gone undetected.

And without the pandemonium of our big cities, we wouldn’t have encountered or experienced, fleeting moments of nirvana.

Silence is alive.

If it would be as absolute as we’d wish it to be, long would we be gone to a dimension, where sound is, but a distant memory ( If we have one! ) Where living in the present
is not a choice but a way of being.
Where we would have fallen astern in our appreciation of the cock-crow in a barnyard or, the wail of a capricious child. We would be, confronted to a world of unmitigated stillness.
Where the soul is wrapped up in clouds of spirituality. Where,regret doesn’t have a place. Or philosophy a name. Habits and thoughts are belated pilgrims. We’d be with the knowledge that we’d
been transients unto territories that FELT familiar and convinced we were affiliated to it’s structures.

Blessed be, the occasional forays of silent resemblances, or smothered din intruding our intended worldly peace.

After pondering on that thought, I nonetheless, savored and relished every parcel of blissful, imperfect tranquility given to me. But, not-withstanding, vowed to go out for a stroll in our
beautiful town and absorb every bit of sound surrounding me!

The dense traffic, the tramways screeching on the rails, the wailing sirens of an ambulances saving in extremis lives of it’s dwellers and even my portable, blaring a cacophonous tune, as a devilish choice of my dear children who had gone unanswered too many a time.
I did all that with gladness in my step and providence’s wink ( or nod of approval ) which I interpreted by the rays of sunshine coming out after a long and freezing winter.

We live on a main artery which leads to highways conducting to many countries. The contrast between the ethereal and peaceful experience I had just encountered in my Utopian Elysium, the bedlam
created by our civilization felt like an uproar and aggression to my eardrums. But the gilded heavenly rays of warmth temptingly invite and tease me into hazarding myself into the year 2010.
We have a beautiful park running alongside our boulevard which always makes the walk thither a treat we all look forward too.

At present, I walk along the border of the park, the sounds of birds chirping, merging, with those of today’s means of transportation and find myself enjoying the quality and best of the two worlds.
The beauty of ( nearly! ) untouched nature and the luxury of our highly developed environment.
The park ends, and I saunter further and see the facades of antique houses. I admire the beauty of it’s architecture. The carving of it’s stones polished and renovated today as a token of appreciation to a rich historical past.

I see, time, effort and amounts of money we could never fathom, invested, to make every inhabitant, proud and privileged to belong to this infrastructure.
I wander straight on, sensing gratitude engulf my entire being, finding myself guided toward a museum nearby which, only it’s frontage, is a pleasure to the eyes.From there, my steps lead me, to what I call ” my ” bookstore, my treasure-cave. Rows after rows, filled with books, all sizes, colors and ages. Allowing me to blot out the ” palpitations ” of our era and soak up the tidal-wave of passions for the beauty of words, shaped, molded, carved and chiseled painstakingly by writers who’s love for perfection, overcame the tribulations that accompanied such a profession.

Calmness descended upon me and I picked up a book on John Keats works.

Movement and noises, faded in the background and I found myself enthralled and swirled into a precarious, distant past…

But as usual, life always wins over imagination and I felt impelled back to the forces of the current moment.
The hustle and bustle of the outdoors yanks me to the verisimilitude of today’s frenzy.
I squint at the unusually persistent glare of sunlight flooding the square and opt for an empty bench inviting me to ensconce and bask in the pleasure of my new purchase.

I permeate and infuse every second of this impromptu escapade, Which brings a flavor of voyage. A wish for celebration. As a furlough from a superior to his subordinate.Prompting him to the thrill and anticipation that comes with unforeseen festivities.

I then, trace back my trajectory as if drawn by a magnet towards the confine of my own element, my fount, my shield and shelter. In the hope of basking sometime, very soon, again, in a few gifted minutes of blissful, ecstatic… SILENCE!

Thank you for taking your time to read this!