OK. I have been planning to do some sort of verbal purge, some sort of induced vomiting of the brain, so that I can start thinking clearly, start writing again. Quiet indeed. Great, this is going to be much worse than I ever thought. So do I pick a random topic and start writing? It might just work. Perhaps make way for a few Freudian slips. Which would end up being misconstrued as intentionally casual nuggets of brilliance.
The Night. Wow. That isn’t even new. I already have a blog post on that.
But that doesn’t mean anything. Because what The Night means to me is far more than can ever be expressed in words. To me The Night is… near perfect. The closest to the “right” way of being. Strange, how darkness has always been associated with negativity. Just because you cannot see what lies beyond the darkness, it doesn’t mean that it’s all evil. That all that you cannot understand is negative. But that seems to be the way the world has taken things for granted.
The Night protects. The Night covers. The Night holds. The Night filters out the irrelevant humdrum and incessant drone that accompany The Day. The Night is an exercise in blankness. Emptiness. A healthier state of being than the cluttered pandemonium of The Day. Light and sound are clearer at Night. The Day is an explosion of both light and sound. Light. And Sound. That’s how we perceive almost everything. The more jarring of the five senses. The sixth sense is what you feel in your heart. That’s the quietest of all. But that’s another story.
The Night is also when the sky comes alive. Specks of salt against an inky blue tablecloth. It is when the stars talk to us. Light travels faster than sound. Perhaps that’s why we never get to hear what they say. One can only lip read the way they glimmer. I suppose we are not very good at that. And by the time the sound reaches us, it’s too late. It gets lost in the commotion of the next Day. Lost forever.
The Night. Wow. That isn’t even new. I already have a blog post on that.
But that doesn’t mean anything. Because what The Night means to me is far more than can ever be expressed in words. To me The Night is… near perfect. The closest to the “right” way of being. Strange, how darkness has always been associated with negativity. Just because you cannot see what lies beyond the darkness, it doesn’t mean that it’s all evil. That all that you cannot understand is negative. But that seems to be the way the world has taken things for granted.
The Night protects. The Night covers. The Night holds. The Night filters out the irrelevant humdrum and incessant drone that accompany The Day. The Night is an exercise in blankness. Emptiness. A healthier state of being than the cluttered pandemonium of The Day. Light and sound are clearer at Night. The Day is an explosion of both light and sound. Light. And Sound. That’s how we perceive almost everything. The more jarring of the five senses. The sixth sense is what you feel in your heart. That’s the quietest of all. But that’s another story.
The Night is also when the sky comes alive. Specks of salt against an inky blue tablecloth. It is when the stars talk to us. Light travels faster than sound. Perhaps that’s why we never get to hear what they say. One can only lip read the way they glimmer. I suppose we are not very good at that. And by the time the sound reaches us, it’s too late. It gets lost in the commotion of the next Day. Lost forever.
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