silence is as eerie as it can be when it sucks the sound out of your own home. whispers of foundation slip through the hardwood cracks, conducting a cacophony of settling creaks and wind-blown groans. there’s more to this vacuum of decibels than one might reason; if a tree falls and no one’s around to hear it, did it make a sound? if a person exists in a muffled-to-isolation atmosphere, are they living?
i’ve recognized this phenomenon since i began sleeping in the permanent residence stamped on my license. when noises drop to a level lower than the sensitivity of an ear drum, a curious effect unleashes itself on its conscious inhabitants. i’m tugged away from the churning spirit inside of me. around others, i long for the free time to create music and write. but when i’m serving solitary confinement in a familiar setting, this motivation dissipates like sweat in colorado. the clock’s limbs barely initiate their stretch before i’m reduced to a fleshy vegetable scouring youtube for the fast food of entertainment. the drive to produce reduces to a slew of distractions meant to fill the void of minutes between morning and night. the issue is collections of 60 seconds taken as black holes lacking matter, when time is actually as precious as a monarch butterfly. if you’re not prepared to carefully observe it, the beauty subverts to the blur of our periphery.
to fill in context, this was meant to be for yesterday, but i didn’t dedicate the time to finish it. just before i resumed this afternoon, i was in the state described above, parked like a car in neutral on flat ground. i could sense the resistance to act productively as it warred with the childish greed of thrill. instead of finishing this piece, i skipped in search of a different activity to passively engage my interests.
however, when i’m lost in this mode of outlook, there is never a more satisfying feeling than to go against the opposition. to currently be writing again lifts my spirits and annihilates boredom. here i am, back on track succeeding in the daily procession toward beneficial habits.
my attitude toward a mute home base may vary from yours. for many who raise a family, the silence could be a welcome relief, granting their attentive ears a necessary resting period. however, scheduling time off has never felt just to the judges of my character. my narrators and their inclinations encourage me to choose a road of dedication over one of complacency. if my born intention was to be entertained, you wouldn’t be skimming this present-day diary of my dialectical brain.
but your decision to absorb these words doesn’t pit us against each other. here we are in one boat, traveling toward a shared paradise of retroactive thought and passionate expression. whether i’m writing or you’re reading, we tune in to this muse for communal experience and to learn how to apply wisdom to routine.
i’m grateful to be wrapping up this post, if not for anything else but the fear of an incomplete project subjected to a sabotage of the slouch. a quiet home is less physical than mental, more so naming the general aura of paused inertia. if this sneaks up on you, note it and then viciously switch to the fighting instinct hibernating in us all. the most haunting danger arises from our own standstill malfunctions.
– D K T