Treading lightly the path to enlightenment.

Wordsmith’s lament

I was born this very morning,

And my brother, he was also born.

In our first nine months we learned to speak,

And we have been listening since early morn.

 

                                    -Todd Rundgren

 

Listen. It’s easy to do.

 

Quelling the urge to reply is not always so.

 

In my first life and second, those years of youth and child-rearing, I was never without something to say. Never speechless. A fount of knowledge, or at least information, dubious as it may have been. All the opinions you could ask for, whether you ask or not.

 

Now I am trained. There is very little to say. So many words were just wasted breath blowing on fires of contention, regret, remorse. Why would I think my words were meaningful, bearing power, or valued?

 

Too often, people talk to hear themselves. To break the discomfort of silence. To parade out like a banner all the things that are inside their head that they think you need to know, things you need to believe, things you need to understand about a life you can’t affect.

 

For many years I tried the self-inflated ego trip, the boundless repository of thoughts and opinions which I felt were genuinely valuable advice, guidance, mentorship, fellowship.

 

There are very few words which are real and important. Few things I can share with you to convince you I want to understand how you feel, help you with your troubles, care.

 

In my third life I have found the solace of silence. Now, though I feel I really know something, I really have something valuable to say to you, I am mute.

 

I bask in the glow or I am inundated by the deluge of words people aim at me.

I reply “Really?”.

 

My countenance displays heartfelt recognition of your verbal paintings, your gestures, tone, inflection, and crescendo.

I reply “No kidding?”.

 

Your heart on your sleeve, your monkey on your back, from the recesses of your mind or the pit of your stomach you relay noise shaped like words which I am to masticate.

I reply “Isn’t that something?”.

 

Most other words are wasted. Fodder. Flotsam. Dander. Thatch. Dregs.

Why must you filet your troubles before me, ask of me the magic power to change things that are past, to know the future, to assure you of anything? With simple words?

I am not a god.

 

After all the years, decades, eras, I have boiled down the lexicon. I have discovered what I believe to be a truth which can be shared. Here then, are all the important words in the Universe:

 

I love you.

 

Be at peace,

 

Paz

 

 

 

Comments on: "Wordsmith’s lament" (2)

  1. a good talk AND a Todd quote/ fine job

Drop a line...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: