Silence

In the last few days, I feel I speak too much. I am always a chatterbox, that's true, but these days, I can feel myself tire from it. How often do the others feel tired from listening?

It is difficult, at times, to understand what is behind our actions and feelings. And, of course, it has taken me to actually sit down to write about it to realise the root of the situation. What prompts us (I am the example) to talk and not listen? The desire for control. If we talk, we control what is being said, what the others are thinking about. We can lead the "conversation" in the direction we want it to go, where we set up the limits, the goals, the humorous snippets.

We talk to avoid listening, not to elicit a reply. Or, we make sure the environment drowns our voices: loud music in the pub; fast-pace offices; music devices to isolate us from the other commuters on the bus...

Still, I think it is less a matter of lack of respect for others, and more an issue of uncertainty, of subjection. Sometimes, it is an aspect of compensation - we talk more to eradicate what has been said, that has shocked us and left us shaken. More importantly, it is a therapy of self-assurance: I know what I am talking about, I can control it, I can do it. See? It is just words, my words, and they are now just air, echo, nothing except fading memory. Like the story I got from Irene (I suppose it's a bit from "The Alchemist"), it is our hearts that we want not to listen to; a message that will be heard by those next to us, and duly, wisely, painfully returned to us. And so, we talk to shut down their voices, telling us about our hearts.

We talk to erase our weak selves, to turn our crippling fears into thin air, to prove to ourselves how powerful we are, to distract our demons. We talk to cry out for help because, like a baby, we want comforting milk and tender hugs.

Shhhhhhh. It is time now, to listen.