Enga mellom fjella

A basket full ... of silence

Is it better to speak or remain silent? I can think of many times in my life when I chose the wrong path. There are times to be silent about trespasses of others or ourselves, time to speak out to reveal injustices, heal, move on. The Cherokee use silence as a wall. For the Navajo family it maintains peace. For a victim of abuse it incarcerates.

In my family, secrets wounded us, wound us still. Does silence allow us to not dwell on the unpleasant things of life, or does it prevent us from moving on?

Has silence kept you safe or freed you; has it left you feeling trapped?

A basket full

Galilahi sat, said nothing. The intruder no longer existed, though he stood there lips-a-flapping. She did not listen. Reeds bent easy as she worked on her double weave basket. Over, under, over ... hands weaving a wall of silence around her. Inside she paused for the flash of a flycatcher, watched for the thunderbird's shadow. Balanced at her core, what he said that ears ignored, no longer mattered.

hands weave
a basket full
of silence

© 2009 Kåre Enga [165.469] 2009-03-04

When I lived in Oklahoma, the Cherokee were very generous, kind and tolerant; unless, they didn't want to speak to you. Then a wall of impenetrable silence loomed. Hard to have a one-sided conversation. Double weave baskets: http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1544/1407/1600/IMAG0010.jpg

blah-blah-blah-blah-blah:

Sunday evening: more Erin Hunter. My journal is now on page 1,974. Went to a reading of "Second Wind", but wasn't that impressed and wrote a sarcastic poem. It is hard when someone is reading with the same voice for 20 minutes. No one writes 3 page horrors anymore it seems. Mini-novels of surreal angst is in. ***ouch***

Monday: Cooked chicken, then added rutabaga, apple and curry to steam. Very good blend of flavors. Sat in sunny rays inside where it's warm while outside it was 21 degrees and ice was reforming in the Clark Fork's south channel.

Monday night: "Wild Mercy!" where Tim Gibbons read two wonderful essays: an almost poetic prose on the theme of 'rootless' and another on the human history of the Rattlesnake. Kellie Rider read a powerful two-part story about the personal impact of the 80's farm crisis on her North Dakota family. She still hasn't shared it with family; there is much they remain silent about.

The evening was well worth it. On the way back I stopped at 'Freaky Farms' (where all my freaky friends shop) and picked up milk and butter coconut biscuits (Khong Guan from Singapore). Biscuits all gone now.

Snow to the north; bitter cold tonight; 'twas a sunshiny morn.

MILLSTONES and MILESTONES:

If you have only known me recently you may wish to read: "A six year synopsis."  Hell, even if you do know me!

BLOGVILLE

I'm getting around to more blogs, but realize I am missing so many! Putting blogs under 'My Favorites' works, but you-all write entries quicker than I can read and comment on them!

quote for the day

"The essence of charity is for the servant to recount the blessings of his Lord, and to render thanks unto Him at all times and under all conditions.

The essence of faith is fewness of words and abundance of deeds; he whose words exceed his deeds, know verily his death is better than his life.

The essence of true safety is to observe silence, to look at the end of things and to renounce the world."

~ Bahá’u’lláh, Words of Wisdom

Montana: 27º at noon

12,850