Speaking The Language of Silence
Looking around, there is a lot of noise in which is embedded patterns of recognition. Over and over again the same tune eventually becomes played and replayed to no end.1 Speech becomes the flow of mind broken down along the side of the road in which the passersby rubberneck with glee. Isn't that interesting, goes the cry of excitement.
Eventually, through duplication knowledge becomes power. It's a false sense of power of course but lo and behold, that duplication assumes it and passes it along from one reception point to another like the virus that it is. As the electrical current energizes it's host, life becomes.
Is it not empowering to be the life you live?2
Listening to the heartbeat of Mankind I find the justice of language neither relevant nor even appropriate and so becoming a good listener is merely the necessary role in which to allow that which must be played out to do so, unimpeded.
I listen, therefore I am.3
In taking cues from the Universe the intertwining of subtlety becomes quite apparent. It's really an amazing ball of complexity wrapped in simplicity.
Do you not hear the call of the wild?4