THE SILENT IN-BETWEEN

the main festivities are wrapped,

those slow, in-between days arrived.

in-between goes for this post, too

– more moods & music,

less words.

they simmer beneath the surface,

ready to take form 

for the new year about to unveil itself.

i want to hear the silence

& take heed. 

(the ethereal compositions of Ola Gjeilo,

a new discovery for me this winter,

is like filling the ears with music 

that is like the most beautiful silence

– stirring, a call to pause, 

allow the soul to soar.) 

x

SILENCE TALKING

I wake up in a quiet house.

The snowfall outside turns the world to mute,

obscures the view into blurred, soft contours.

I slip into this Sunday

as if into a cotton kimono. 

This milky white light, soothing silence.

The end of a winter holiday week & winter flu

 felt as velvet on the skin

& crystal-clear, brand new thoughts

that seemingly appeared from nowhere.

Creative ideas that cannot be squeezed into daylight by force

& get silenced by the noise and chaos of the usual busyness.

It's chains like these that continuously make me marvel

~ just think how much bubbles deep within us,

 waiting to flow free,

if you truly pause for a moment,

put out your gentle feelers. 

Sometimes there's nothing that speaks 

as loud as silence.

Herään hiljaisessa talossa.

Lumisade vaimentaa äänet entisestään, 

sumentaa näkymät.

Tähän sunnuntaihin sujahdan

kuin puuvillakimonoon. 

Maidonvalkea valo, hiljaisuus.

Talvilomaviikon ja flunssan jälkeinen raukeus

tuntuu samettina iholla

ja kirkastuneina, kuin tyhjästä ilmaantuneina uusina ajatuksina.

Luovina ideoina, joita ei voi väkisin pusertaa esiin

ja jotka kiireessä jäävät kaiken melun peittoon.

Nämä tällaiset ketjut jaksavat ihmetyttää

~ mitä kaikkea meidän sisällä pulppuaakaan,

valmiina murtamaan kaikki padot,

jos vain oikeasti pysähtyy,

hellästi tunnustelee. 

Joskus mikään ei puhu yhtä lujaa

kuin hiljaisuus. 

x

SOLEMN SILENCE (Wanderings around Malta, Conclusion)

“For now she need not think of anybody.

She could be herself, by herself."

"And that was what now she often felt the need of - 

to think; well not even to think. 

To be silent; to be alone."

"All the being and the doing, 

expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated;

and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, 

to being oneself, 

a wedge-shaped core of darkness, 

something invisible to others..."

"and this self 

having shed its attachments 

was free 

for the strangest adventures.”

Virginia Woolf: To the Lighthouse