the right words...
“Then it is finished
and on you go burning to a cinder
A forgery in figure only
Signature cut to the wheels.” – Fanny Howe from her poem “Forged”
It appears as if we’re an “out there” society.
It’s not universal or readily accepted, but celebrity, fashion and taste enthrone many in swoon to their ephemeral delight.
That’s not my thing – not to sound priggish. Instead, in the right setting, I long for a deep, thoughtful and reverential conversation. (It would be my form of retreat – not that the word ‘retreat’ holds any appeal in the way it leans the wrong way against our existential travails.)
But then I’m struck by the fact that no one I know wants to talk about the subjects that continue to haunt my days – e.g. death, dying, grief, belonging and endings of all stripes.
In fact, I can feel the air going out the room at the merest mention of any of them, more especially the “D” word.
“Oh dear god he’s at it again!”
Then again, I’m not good company, generally; I don’t know why. Shyness, introversion, introspection? Possibly, but as the rubric so ably attests, I struggle to find the right words when I’m not talking about work. I’m a little better than I was, given my latter-day sojourn with poetry and the writings of (among others) Stephen Jenkinson, but when the topics shift around to the usual panoply of human travails, I am apt to go silent, which might be perceived as rudeness but I genuinely don’t know what to say.
Why am I telling you this?
Because I can.
Because it helps me see the shape of my shadow self.
And more than likely because I can’t be the only person who struggles for words or struggles to find the right words.
Still, none of it matters. I could just as well sit in silence – perhaps I should given how many words I’ve spilled for so little reward – but then again, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to the longing to find a partner in crime who I could sit with and listen to them and not be forced to heave up a litany of words for the sake of it.
One day, perhaps.
One day.
Take care.
Love, Julian