Tuesday, January 14, 2014

These Quiet Shadows

“I've begun to realize that you can listen to silence and learn from it. It has a quality and a dimension all its own.” ~ Chaim Potok, The Chosen

Smoke twists and churns from a fluted chimney across the wooden fence like hand shadows entertaining a child. I’m mesmerized watching this dance of shadow play as my mind escapes into innocence, away from reminders, dates, and traumatic anniversaries… I’m well aware, some days carry a heavier weight than others. Chasms which at any given moment open up one self to heartbreak and gnat infested nitpicking introverted despondency. Not today. Ambience distorts the smoke shadow silence into a dance for an audience of one and I’m easily entertained.

Nine years doesn’t seem like much time, yet exactly three thousand, two hundred, and eighty five days have come and gone in an incandescent time suck. Days passed in idyllic disorientation without the calls of wildlife, birds, laughter, music, and so on into the depths of what passes for mute in a world devoid of sound. And on one singular day of each of those forlorn years I misplace my belief and dare to ponder a miracle. January 8th - a day in which I crave a wild debauched desire for nothing more than to wish away a nightmare; a nightmarish realism I can’t escape, as if the fates would bestow a magical cure proclaiming, “Enough sweet child, for you have paid your dues in full.”


To quote an Eurhythmics’ song, 
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree
I travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something.

Oh, I disagreed for years. I guess, some part of me still does, but time distorts things, giving my victim terminology a strange perception. Could be human nature for all I know, pushing the whole, ‘I can overcome any obstacle’ to survive mentality. Some days that thinking is a joke and others awe inspiring, carrying a rootless spirituality that leaves you the sole worshiper. Three thousand, two hundred, and eighty five days later I’m not the same person shouting from the rooftops about how unfair my life is. My views have canted toward a very different outlook.

So what does nine years get me? Serenity. There is no right or wrong way of thinking in my situation, it’s not even about acceptance, but choices. I could let the world dictate my value or I could name my own price. My deafness is a priceless experience. True, I spend more time in my own head than most people do in a lifetime. These days, I can’t think of a better place to be. I’m comfortable in my own skin and forever inspired by the journey I’ve undertaken. The silence is so loudyou should listen in some time.
~ Indigo


  1. Wow. Very profound. You are truly gifted, Indigo. Paul

  2. Lovely photo -- did you take it?

    It's always good to read a post by you.

  3. hello indigo, it's been a while and wow, what a piece of writing to return to! this is so potent and personal and precious, your honesty and loss and growth. i didn't know your deafness happened nine years ago. so you know the sounds you no longer hear. and so you know how wise you are to appreciate your own company. so so many people cannot tolerate silence and they keep themselves busy and away from real meaning. that is obviously not you

    you write absolutely beautifully. i'm glad to be hear. thank you.


  4. I've been wondering how you are pretty lady. So good to see you here again. My companion, John is losing his sight and his hearing. Your writing helps me understand where he is coming from a little more. Thank you.

  5. So good to hear from you ~ I love the way you describe the nuances and complexities and beauty of the inner world

  6. hey, glad you are comfortable there...and you are right in that it is about choices...and choosing who gets to dictate who/what you are going to be/do...

  7. As always, Indy, I love reading your posts. It's been so long since I did read one of these, that I almost forgot how well you write. Hint, hint. Wink, wink. The image of the smoke from the chimney--and the deeper insinuations of it--will linger with me.

  8. These days, I can’t think of a better place to be. I’m comfortable in my own skin and forever inspired by the journey I’ve undertaken.

    I feel and believe the very same thing... 9 years, that has gone by so fast..! I got to be around the same age now... what a ride..!


Thank you for giving my silence a voice, my muse your words, and taking the time to discover my prose.