Quiet.

Sometimes I feel like my life is an enormous rollercoaster of noise and screaming and loud music. While it’s a fun thing for a while, the ever-cyclic wheel continuing to churn you through social engagements, parties, non-stop weeks, days off filled with errands and not too much relaxing… well, it becomes tiresome.

Don’t you feel sometimes that you’d rather everyone switched off the electronics and gave you some time to hear nothing but nature? My ears have definitely, (but not diagnosedly) been damaged by loud music in earphones, not just at the point where I instinctively have the phone on my left ear because I hear better in that one, but to the extreme of actually not being able to one hundred percent hear what a co-worker says to me; from two metres away.

Sometimes I feel like I just want to go outside and listen to birds singing their natural music, even though I love, love, love modern ‘alternate’ music and rock and thrash and operatic metallll! Oh yes. But I do get tired of it. I do get tired of the constant whiring of machinery, screaming children and whinging people. I get tired of talking or hearing people talk at me…

Here’s what I do to relax and find my quiet, gooey, minty centre.

* I put my phone and my walkman in my bag and keep them out of sight…

* I try to get the boys to turn down the eternal music, yes, eternal.

* Pull out all the noisy machines from their electrical little sockets. (Apart from obviously the fridge and freezer).

* If it’s night – light some candles, or some incense.

* If it’s day – sit outside, flapping a little fan at your face lazily or if it’s cold; snuggle in a hammock with a hot chocolate or a gorgeous partner.

* Take a bath! Get the room all steamy, find some scented oil and candles, open up those pores and put something delicious in the water! Some rose-oil or petals, milk and an oat meal sugar scrub, a bath bomb and a citrus salt scrub. Soak yourself calm ^_^

* I know it sounds silly, but have just one square of chocolate. Just one, you’ll see how good it feels to remain in control of the choc-urges.

* Be by yourself. Plan to be alone and take full advantage of it, because as much as you love your loved ones, alone time is really important.

* Be aware of how loud your earphones are; if you can hear the music when they’re not in your ears, they are definitely too loud! This can cause permanent damage to your hearing, and although I’m not quite going to reccommend having a limiter enabled on your device, you should be mature and smart enough to keep the musicality in check!

So remember these tips before you turn up the volume on your music, before you feel like there’s so much noise on the brain that you can’t even sleep without something chiming away in your ears!

X…Cheshire Kitten…X

Quiet.

Sometimes I feel like my life is an enormous rollercoaster of noise and screaming and loud music. While it’s a fun thing for a while, the ever-cyclic wheel continuing to churn you through social engagements, parties, non-stop weeks, days off filled with errands and not too much relaxing… well, it becomes tiresome.

Don’t you feel sometimes that you’d rather everyone switched off the electronics and gave you some time to hear nothing but nature? My ears have definitely, (but not diagnosedly) been damaged by loud music in earphones, not just at the point where I instinctively have the phone on my left ear because I hear better in that one, but to the extreme of actually not being able to one hundred percent hear what a co-worker says to me; from two metres away.

Sometimes I feel like I just want to go outside and listen to birds singing their natural music, even though I love, love, love modern ‘alternate’ music and rock and thrash and operatic metallll! Oh yes. But I do get tired of it. I do get tired of the constant whiring of machinery, screaming children and whinging people. I get tired of talking or hearing people talk at me…

Here’s what I do to relax and find my quiet, gooey, minty centre.

* I put my phone and my walkman in my bag and keep them out of sight…

* I try to get the boys to turn down the eternal music, yes, eternal.

* Pull out all the noisy machines from their electrical little sockets. (Apart from obviously the fridge and freezer).

* If it’s night – light some candles, or some incense.

* If it’s day – sit outside, flapping a little fan at your face lazily or if it’s cold; snuggle in a hammock with a hot chocolate or a gorgeous partner.

* Take a bath! Get the room all steamy, find some scented oil and candles, open up those pores and put something delicious in the water! Some rose-oil or petals, milk and an oat meal sugar scrub, a bath bomb and a citrus salt scrub. Soak yourself calm ^_^

* I know it sounds silly, but have just one square of chocolate. Just one, you’ll see how good it feels to remain in control of the choc-urges.

* Be by yourself. Plan to be alone and take full advantage of it, because as much as you love your loved ones, alone time is really important.

* Be aware of how loud your earphones are; if you can hear the music when they’re not in your ears, they are definitely too loud! This can cause permanent damage to your hearing, and although I’m not quite going to reccommend having a limiter enabled on your device, you should be mature and smart enough to keep the musicality in check!

So remember these tips before you turn up the volume on your music, before you feel like there’s so much noise on the brain that you can’t even sleep without something chiming away in your ears!

X…Cheshire Kitten…X

JAMAIS! Devo exclamar.

A sociedade hoje em dia implanta muitos desejos/necessidades nas pessoas, são ordens arremessadas no espaço, esperando um olhar desatento, um inconsciênte despoliciado.
A frase imperativa invadi sua mente, e sistematiza sua capacidades, as ordena de acordo com as vibrações externas.

Devemos dar uma olhada cirurgica em nossos atos e padrões de necessidades que temos, pois muitas delas são inuteis e fazemos apenas por costume.

E depois de nos analisarmos deverá surgir mais momentos sozinhos, sem ter o que fazer ao primeiro olhar. Mas quem disse que ficar um instante parado, fora dessa onda de ações e reações é ruim? Pelo contrário.
O que falta muito nas pessoas hoje em dia, é se conhecer. Principalmente na época do fim da adolescência e começo de faculdade ou 20 e poucos anos, as pessoas não tem tempo pra respirar, e nessa idade é quando enchergamos o mundo de uma maneira ímpar, que muitas vezes jamais irá voltar a acontecer.

Estar silenciado, na quietudade, significa alcançar a si mesmo, uma parte que a maior parte do tempo se encontra subjugada pelo caos e movimentação externa.

Ter contato com seu eu interior acontece quando somos criativos, quando temos um Salto Quântico de Criatividade como diria Amit Gowsami, ou Satori em japonês, ou Moksa como se diz na india. É fazer algo que realmente venha do seu interior, que ti represente totalmente e que seja tudo de uma vez.

Como antiagamente na época dos reinos na Europa, apenas o primeiro filho iria herdar o reino então os outros livros não tinham ocupação, e todos eles vendo sua falta de objetivo ou funcionalidade no reino acabavam virando cantores, músicos, pintores e dançarinos, artes que ao meu ver necessita de criatividade para se fazer bem. O que quero dizer é que a quietudade nos faz aprender e fazer coisas envolvidas muito mais com nós mesmo do que simplesmente fazer parte de alguma coisa grande apenas por Status ou Funcionalidade Social. Isso é o que mais é valorizado hoje em dia, como um dever vital que já nascemos encarregados de cumprir, e quem se desvia desse caminho programado é tido como Corrupto dos Padrões Sociais, ou seja vagabundo ou alguêm que não presta.

Muitas Pessoas tem medo do Projeto Vênus, ele é apresentado no documentário Zeitgeist 2 Addedum já postado aqui no Destruidor de Dogmas. E essas pessoas tem medo, pois numa sociadade que teoricamente se aproximaria da perfeição o que as pessoas fariam se não quisessem ser uteis? Pois você poderia trabalhar no que quiser, e se existisse muitas coisas que facilitassem a vida, como aparato automáticos e robóticos, o que um ser humano que não queira se engajar faria?

Veja que a história pode se repetir denovo, as pessoas com medo ainda não descobriram a quietude.

Silencie-se para descobrir quem és.

A catarse acontecerá uma hora ou outra.

E ela tem mão dupla.

I’ve always liked the word quietude. I like the way it sounds. I like the way it feels when you say it, the way your mouth makes a series of quick shapes, from a pucker to a smile and back again.

I like the way the word sounds like it means — it’s a grander, more elegant way of saying “be quiet.” I also like quiescence for the same reasons (you gotta love those ancient, timeless Latinas), but quietude is a little stronger, a little more emphatic. It’s like quiet, but with a ‘tude (which is really attitude with a ‘tude).

Mainly I like quietude because it describes my normal state of being when I write “Scribbleskiff.” I don’t know what time of day you regularly read this (that’s the naive optimist in me, peeking out, believing you do read this gibberish and regularly, at a specific hour — you do, don’t you?), so I have no notion of your habitude: with a coffee cup in the early morning, on a rattling commuter train, over a salad plate at lunch, at your computer late at night, etc. But when I gibber it’s usually in the wee small hours (either morning or night) or during a lull in my day. At that time, my world is characterized by the mouth-shaping, antediluvian, presumptuous “state or condition of being calm or quiet.” Full of it, in fact, saturated with it, overwhelmed by it.

That is, except for the music. As I have written before (here, for instance), having some tunes playing while I work helps me focus and stay on task. And much of the new music I’ve lately been drawn to, picked up, and played has a grandiloquent air of tranquility about it. In other words, it too is ruled by quietude.

Have I mellowed in my middle age? I don’t think so; just the other day my tweenage son and nephew asked if I had heard “Bullet With Butterfly Wings,” which is the theme song for “Whale Wars,” one of their favorite TV shows. Not only had I heard it, I could produce it on my iPhone, and we three proceeded to head-bang our way to soccer practice. Nonetheless, I can’t do my best work with pumpkins smashing and crashing loudly in my ears. I need something, well, mellower to accompany me.

So I recently pulled together a playlist of new songs that scream “calmness,” songs that are perfect for the time of day when you are seeking a little repose, some serenity or heartsease for the soul, etc. However, these songs are not intended to quieten or tranquilize anyone (that would be my “Songs of Somnolence” mix, a playlist for another state of mind). Some of the cuts for this week, in fact, border on being a little raucous — but that’s my subtle way of reminding you that, no matter how mellow the music may get, it’s still rock and roll to me.

Be sure to click on each of the links below to sample the songs (open each as a new tab or window), and then follow the threads to find out where you can download them. Or you can listen to the playlist in its entirety, though in a randomized order, at the Scribbleskiff page on the 8tracks Web site. Just click here, open as a new tab or window, and let the music play as you read along. Enjoy!

“Holy, Holy, Holy Moses (Song for New Orleans),” Alec Ounsworth, Mo Beauty. As the frontman for Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Ounsworth’s singing style is an acquired taste for some (think bad Dylan impersonation). But this song, from his new solo release, is a good illustration of why I really like Ounsworth’s work. Beneath the edgy, flaky surface — just a softly fingered nylon-string guitar and piano duet — lies a deeply felt, sublime requiem for a post-Katrina Big Easy.

“The Field,” Mason Jennings, Blood of Man. This song is a fairly straightforward, lo-fi, guitar-based ballad about a lost loved one (a la Nebraska). But what makes it stand out from its predecessors, and what gives it its punch, is the way Jennings slowly builds tension by switching from a muffled, flattened strum to full-on ringing chords — yet never really lets it go. It’s an old trick, but it’s a hauntingly beautiful one, too.

“Infinity,” The XX, xx. It’s rare to hear song sampling used outside of rap or hip-hop. It’s even rarer when it’s handled with such sophistication. The sultry, reverb-laden guitar hook that forms this song’s backbone, and is what first caught my attention, comes straight out of Chris Isaak’s catalog. And yet it’s somehow catchier here, turning one man’s longing into a hypnotic-erotic, wicked game for the male-female vocalists.

“Everything Is Moving So Fast,” Great Lake Swimmers. Lost Channels. This song, by a young Canadian five-piece, has all the right folk-pop ingredients — breezy harmonies, smooth acoustic guitar-picking, brushed snare drums, and a slightly jazzy rhythm — to make you think (and hope) that a Crosby, Stills, Nash, Young and Joni Mitchell reunion/revival tour is not just a thing of the past.

“Hands,” The Dutchess & The Duke, Sunset/Sunrise. The psych-pop “royal couple” is back with a follow-up to their infectious self-titled release, a favorite of mine from 2008. They’ve retained their stripped-down, Beggars Banquet-era mood and mannerism, but filled out their sound a bit, with the addition of a few more instruments (such as an organ and a searing electric guitar lick on this track) and a knack for ending (or not ending) a song properly.

“Know Better Learn Faster,” Thao with The Get Down Stay Down, Know Better Learn Faster. Another one of my favorites from 2008, these guys make upbeat music with meaning but not a heavy hand. Returning with more learned, more intricate melodics — including Andrew Bird-supplied violins and whistling — they still manage to maintain the light touch that made songs like “Bag of Hammers” so instantly likable.

“Leap,” The Cave Singers,” Welcome Joy. I love the old-timey locomotion of this song, the way the circular guitar-picking seems to pick up speed when the snare drum snaps in, the bass begins to bounce, and the harmonica starts chugging. It’s like a countrified, cotton-eyed, foot-stomping sonic ride back to another time.

“Relator,” Pete Yorn & Scarlett Johansson, Break Up. This year’s indie-music “it” couple seems to relate surprisingly well together. This swinging, bluesy duet, which nimbly marries Johansson’s throaty vocals with Yorn’s urgent, slightly distorted guitar flare-ups, creates one of the happiest-sounding kiss-off songs I’ve heard in awhile. It (almost) makes me think I’m over last year’s movie-music power couple, She & Him. Almost.

“Pariah,” Natureboy, Natureboy. At the beginning, this song by Natureboy (the alias of Brooklyn-based artist Sara Kermanshahi) sounds like a clash between Chrissie Hynde and Neutral Milk Hotel. But eventually the wavering, plaintive vocals sync up with the rhythms of the strumming guitar, tambourines, hand-claps, and swelling keyboards, turning this from frazzled solipsism to folk-pop parity.

“Fake Blues,” Real Estate, Real Estate. Sometimes it’s hard to say why I like a song. Sometimes, I just like it. Like this one by a new-to-me N.J.-based foursome. Maybe it’s the simple construction — guitar, bass, drums — and solid harmonies. Or the way the repetitive guitar riff sounds like a cartoonish Japanese folk song. Or the fact that a tune this charming could be considered the blues, real or otherwise. Please, take a listen and tell me why I like it.

“Horchata,” Vampire Weekend, Contra. The indie-rock heroes (or heretics, depending on your perspective) are back with a new, free teaser (the new LP won’t be out till 2010). Although they’ve expanded their sound and instrumentation (for instance, eschewing guitars here in favor of kalimbas, marimbas, and the like), they’re still serving up the same frothy, world-pop-influenced concoctions that made them an Internet buzzword last year.

“Here to Fall,” Yo La Tengo, Popular Songs. I fell for this song almost at first listen, though I thought that, with its trilling violins, rat-a-tat snares, funky fuzz guitar lines, and spacey grooves (with waves of wah-wah pedal and synthesizers), it might be the theme for a kitschy 1970s-era cop show. But, not to worry, it’s just a love song. One that, once you listen to several times, you’ll be falling for, too — “what else is there for us to do?”

“Silver Amongst the Gold,” Grand Archives, Keep in Mind Frankenstein. Here’s a band whose name aptly describes its musicality: an oversized, opulent sound that feels like an old standby. Think a fizzy, dream-pop version of The Beach Boys, or a mash-up of ELO and Ride. Whatever you call it, the only thing more appealing than this buoyant, wispy song is the name the Seattle-based musicians gave to its album.

“Tin Man,” Animal Kingdom, Signs and Wonders. As power-pop bands go, these London-based newbies don’t stray too far from the familiar pathway cut by the likes of Coldplay or Snow Patrol. But what sets them apart here, aside from the wistful Steve Perry-like vocalist, is the way they wizardly spin heavy, reverb-laden guitar lines into an enchanting, heartfelt rock ballad.

“Fables,” The Dodos, Time to Die. Few bands could place the drummer in the foreground (in this case, a propulsive percussionist) to match the syncopated strumming of the guitar and still sound as loose and ebullient as, say, The Shins or Fleet Foxes. But this San Francisco-based trio keeps things simple (with the added exception of a vibraphone) and that’s the key to the creation of this bouncy, roomy romper.

“Rosalyn,” Thad Cockrell, To Be Loved. I’d never heard of Thad Cockrell before, but as soon as I’d played this song I felt like I’d heard his sound before. “Rosalyn” skirts along the country side of American roots-rock, with enough acoustic guitars, power chords, plucky banjo, and vocal twang to please fans of Ryan Adams or Caitlin Cary (with whom he has apparently shared the mic).

“I and Love and You,” The Avett Brothers, I and Love and You. I don’t normally care for piano-based rock and roll (blame it on Elton John or that guy from Long Island), but this slow-moving waltz is one of the loveliest songs (regardless of its base) that I’ve ever heard, and I couldn’t resist it. These N.C.-based siblings may sound a little old-school here (like The Band, but with more warmth and better harmonies), but sometimes that’s exactly the love that you and I need.

“For You,” Big Star, Third/Sister Lovers. OK, I’m being totally self-indulgent here (in a crucible of self-indulgence) but this is an old song I’ve enjoyed for decades that has finally become available on iTunes (as part of the omnibus collection Keep an Eye on the Sky). Big Star was an essential influence on many bands I admire. Now, with the aid of an iPod, I can follow Paul Westerberg’s advice and never travel far without a little Big Star. And, if you’ve gotten to this point, faithful reader, then I dedicate this song to you.

As always, tell us what you think. Is there a new band that you’d like others to know more about? What’s your favorite song of quietude? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

Aux Renaissances, les résidents :

- Se sentent chez eux, en toute autonomie, dans un cadre élégant et convivial avec un service de qualité qui assure leur sécurité ;

-Ne sont pas dépaysés et ont tout loisir de personnaliser leur appartement ;

-Profitent d’un grand confort, d’un service de restauration de qualité, d’une convivialité mêlée à la quiétude ;

- Se trouvent à proximité de tous les commerces et lieux culturels, desservis par les transports en commun.

La résidence « les Renaissances » est idéalement située pour une retraite douce et épanouissante.

Today’s word is beautifully defined by Merriam-Webster: 1) clear and free of storms or unpleasant change; 2) shining bright and steady; 3) marked by or suggestive of utter calm and unruffled repose or quietude. Yes, today I will concentrate on being “serene” in demeanor and soul. Ultimately, this quality is controlled by ourselves. Letting go of negative emotions; letting the day’s troubles not invade our spiritual space. Easier said than done but I wish to be serene rather than “ruffled” and so will remember my goal all day.

The comfort ability of silence

How often can one say “I love you” -
Pending once befalls too many then twice is not enough
or is it rather that we share a common quietude
where the knowledge of love is the awareness of affection
that the resonance of our sincerity is the purity
of two souls having become
- One.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2009

Intimate illusions

Are of  the arms -
Which hold me through out the night.
The warmth of a breath against the nape of my neck,
the steady murmur of a heart beating amid my shoulders blades
as hands clasped, fingers are reassuringly entwined.
Thus you’re with me wherever you are
as we will always sleep under
- The same stars.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2009

October

As I hold on to you –
Thus I long to lie in gilded grass.
Memories of green whispering gently beneath
the auburns of ocher and umber woven within your hair
as it falls voiceless and reckless down upon me
that my lips tremble with the kiss
of your autumn’s
- Sky

Thus speak to me –
In warm wandering whispers
soothingly caressing the bareness of my skin
as I am returned to the ardor of your intimacy’s embrace.
Our very souls locked within climatic reunion
that the pinnacle of our fall
begets summer’s
- End.

Clouds unfurling –
Wind combing through my hair.
As your touch is seasonably cool and calming
the warmth of your heart lies endearingly upon my breast.
Thus I tenderly caress the reveries of the day
abandoning myself to the solace
I have found in
- You.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2009

Then so I am my father’s son.

Thus I was borne from a wood of cotton and height.

That she returns to me on each and every promise of spring for there is sincerity in my sway as she sits in solace beneath the comfort ability and canopy of my bustling coat of emerald leaves.

Older now that the silver threads of wisdom accent the wind in her hair, still she settles into the sanctuary of my hold and finding a particular page marked by a crumbling leaf of ocher she softly clears her throat and reads aloud from her tattered book of dreams…

“Once upon a time…”

…

finito

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2003

“All that we are
is all that we leave behind.”

…

She returned on the promise of spring.

Her heart overflowing with anticipation as she skipped along the sandbar and yet nestled to her breast was not her familiar book of dreams but a sapling of which she had nursed all winter long from the keepsake of green she had plucked from his heartwood. So proud was she of her endeavor that she gingerly carried the sprout within her bosom as if it were a child of her own.

Thus ecstatic with her accomplishment she rounded the river’s bend rambunctiously stirring the morning’s mists into awakening with her bare feet and yet she was not greeted by the bustling sound of his coat and leaves but rather the silence and echoing poetry of their summer’s past. Then so her enthusiasms were muddled by her confusions.

What stood before her was barely a ghost of itself. Its once bountiful limbs and green canopy had been stripped and now laid strewn, windblown and broken. The stoutness of it’s trunk of heartwood had become desiccated, writhe and hollow. Then so what were once the muscling roots that sank deep into its mother’s earth were now merely gnarled, shrunken and withdrawn.

Thus she knelt before his memory and kindly placed the plantlet respectfully within the weathered arms of its fathers hold. Then covering its tender roots gently with mother’s earth that whether it was the meadow’s dew or the mourning in her eyes, she lovingly watered its destiny and dreaming with the somber tears of her heart’s…

Remorse.

…

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2003

The sun king stokes a flame.

Stirring the embers of his furnace he prepares for battle with winter’s queen that her season may pass into the beginnings of spring. A futile fight for her majesty and yet her vanity is so employed as to not to want to see her beauty and work slip silently through her fingers, yet it is still the will of the mother that all things seasonal must pass that they can complete the circle and sustain the continuity of life.

As prideful as the sun king may be, he is not so brash that he steps humbly from behind the quilts and cover of clouds and lays a gentleness of warmth down upon the meadow. Thus the frozen river creaks with life as the weight of ice melts slowly from it bank’s reeds, the snow softens and sinks silently into mother’s earth nourishing the seeds of revival of which were sown so many months before.

Despite the sun king’s gentle gesture, her majesty is livid to see her work and beauty undone that she unleashes her northerly March winds to lay down a frost of lament to hamper and halt this rebellion of renaissance. Howling like wolves these remnants of her wintry touch wreck havoc and terror throughout the night holding her beauty in a temporary frozen stasis.

Yet the sun king rises with the same confidence that her majesty had once held and caresses the meadow again with the warmth of his touch. The northerly winds turn tail as the soft southern breeze quietly melts the evening’s frost. Then so the cycle continues day and night until at last the glade glistens with not but the sun king’s morning dew.

Where as the birds sing summoning the animals from their shelters and the wildflowers bloom with water color once more. The river runs wild as the reeds whistle their songs of serenity, and yet silently standing amidst the jubilant celebration of spring’s rejuvenation is a hollow and heartbroken husk of what was once a wood…

Of cotton and height.

…

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2003

“Such is destiny…

That my fate has taken care of itself. Therefore despite all my knowledge and wisdom or even my sins forgiven time’s passage does not bargain with ones wealth. Mayhap destiny’s destinations have mislead my expectations that my fate may be perceived less than kind, that my idealism it seams has been not more than a dream as the folly of my heart has lead me blind.

Thus this time without you has left me askew that my days have seemingly shortened, and yet I find no relief from night’s incessant increase that it only amends my misfortune. Then so the mind of my wander has lost the will of it’s ponder that its reason has been replaced by madness, as my time elapsed is only surpassed by reminiscent melancholy and sadness.

Yet as my lucidity turns to dream I play out my life’s theme that perhaps my time was not unlike a season, therefore I compare the virtues of such affair might that it give my circumstance reason. Then so I spite winter’s chill that she has hardened my will to hold on to this concept of dreaming, that were it not for you I would not know of love’s truth thus you gave my season a meaning.

Then in solace I sleep with in your heart’s keep that my price for eternity is paid, knowing to live on in you is immortality’s truth and thus my soul is saved. Has winter’s touch turned me to stone that in love with you I die alone and so I am returned to my mother, it can never be said that my soul does not still live even though my body perishes in the arms…

Of another.”

…

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2003

Thus her chill had set into the bone.

That the days have passed into weeks, weeks into months until we are found at the heart of her muster that she is secure upon her January’s hold. Might that the thawing of March winds not be far away, they are but hers to conduct now as she pleases, and she so pleases to maintain her icy grip with even the slightest gust of their relentless chill.

But today she is confident and the winds were calm as the crows searched for nourishment on the glassy knolls of the once green glade, still cautious as that one never knew when she might get a bustle up her skirt of icing mists and lay down another depth of unforgiving snow. But today she was secure and comfortably cold sitting upon January’s frozen throne thus she was confident.

The river was frozen over bank to bank, as like a jeweled mirror glistening for her vanity it lay placid and seemingly dormant except for the icy mists which swept silently over its surface. Yet if one were to take stroll across the solidity of its icy enclosure they could still see it freezing and flowing beneath its ice-covered surface, perchance they to even hear the magical murmur of its music softened by wither herself.

The skies were gray and overcast that the sun king still played the voyeur, not yet had he gathered his bravery enough to lay his kiss full on her majesty’s frosted lips. Yet the clouds were not threatening but merely a shade of melancholy that there was a certain kind of peacefulness and serenity that circulated briskly throughout the silence of the frozen meadow.

Then so it was as she sat upon her throne…

Confidently.

…

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2003

“Northern star where ever you are…

I seek your wisdoms light; to guide me through this night of blue as my hope does waver in sight. This song I follow has left me hollow that I do not know if it is her wind or my heart. Wherefore I fear to have lost my endeared as the light her memory has been overshadowed by the jealousy of your mistress’s frigid rampart.

Therefore should I accept these bitter terms despite how the fire in my heart burns and yet I cannot deny the solitude of my situation, when I was once content with my circumstance had I never known romance that now my heart aches with pain and frustration? That this cold tempts me I feel to bend to wintered will might that she lull me into her bed of hibernation, where upon my heart would be cost at the price of my love lost to the deep sleep of my will’s deprivation.

Thus winsome star I impart the plight of my heart, although some say it is strong might I have given too much away. For I feel my strength wane mayhap I have achieved a mortal plane where as my own immortality does fade. Thus has this all been a dreaming as subconscious of seeming a thinking I thought meant to be, and that she will never return no matter how high my flame burns as how could even I find a way back to reverie.

If it is truth that you have spoken then so it is my will which has been broken thus your mistress has cast ‘pon me cold spell. Thus hopes flame does dwindle for it is without rekindle that even this dire distance has helped do her work well. Might hope be a state of mind it is of not my being that I find there is left is there is nothing to leave, therefore what I have found may that these forests resound with the hurt in my heart as I…

Grieve.”

…

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2003

Tumbleweed

That you swept into my life –
Upon the whim of fates wind that you cling to my heart
even now that I could not ever want to let you go.
Speaking thus softly of life and its laughter and of love and its loss
for never do we realize who truly holds our heart
- Until they are already gone.

Thus I nurture our destiny –
As it is fates own calm that stays your heart next to mine
that you lie here with me in these gilded fields.
Could we always have these endless days with their cloudless skies
spanning horizons of quietude as to lay with you
- Is to be closer to Heaven.

Yet fate is a fickle wind –
May come a day it would blow your spirit free of my will
even as my heart knows no boundary of distance.
Our rendezvous all too brief and yet how grand it was to feel wanted
if only for one fleeting moment within your arms
when our winds had gone
- Still.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2004

The old man had been walking in silence while the boy played along the path. The sun was bright, yet the air was cool. The breeze was at their face soothing the skin. The monk noticed the boy coming toward him. He knew the boy’s arrival would be followed by a question.

“Master, it is a beautiful day, run with me.” The child’s energy was to be admired.

“Run with you?” The old man could not help but laugh aloud. “My child, the day’s are gone for me when it comes to running.” The smile on the child’s face was enough to reinvigorate the old man; but run?…no, that he would not do.

“Abba, I have a question.”

“Yes, child, I’ve been expecting it.”

“Explain ’silence’ to me. Why do you teach ’silence.’”

“Oh, my son, that is a good question – one that all mankind should comprehend. You see, there are three kinds of silence: the sin of silence…the silence of negation…and the silence of the heart.”

“Three?! I thought silence just meant being quiet?”

The old man laughed and thought, one way or the other the child was going to make him run – not so much physically but mentally. “Well, yes, you are right. It is about being quiet. But it is much more than that. Let me explain.

“Why one is silent is important. For example, suppose someone is blaspheming our Lord. Should we do nothing? Or should we correct the person? Let me state another example, suppose someone is telling a lie and we know it to be a lie, do we do nothing? Oh, there are many, many examples in this world. Let me think a moment. Suppose someone claims that all Christians are the same…or that the Muslim Turks and Christians worship the same God…what are we to do, remain silent?

“No. We must not remain silent. To remain silent would be sinful. Those who remain silent commit the sin of silence. We should be upholding and proclaiming the truth. We should tell the blasphemer to cease. We should correct the liar. We should state that not all who claim to be Christian are Christian. Some so-called Christians are simply heretics invoking the name of our Saviour to avoid scrutiny and gain acceptance. Other so-called Christians are in reality Satanists.”

The boy interrupted. “Satanists, claiming to be Christians?”

“Oh yes, yes. They make the false claims to hide their true allegiance to the evil one. This way they can move among man with stealth and undermine the good of the Lord. They are quite cunning.

“And there are those who claim that the god of Islam is the same God of Christianity. They are not the same. Indeed, Islam requires the denunciation of the Christian God when a Christian converts to Islam. But for the fact that the god of Islam is not the God of Christianity, this would not be necessary.

“Therefore, the sin of silence is to say or do nothing in rebuking the lies and influence of the evil one. This sin is most pervasive amongst mankind, even amongst clergy, because under the guise of political correctness and sensitivity, they remain silent.

“The silence of negation is also wrong and may also be a sin. When someone offends our ego and we respond by engaging in silent anger and ignoring that person, the God-created creature in our life, then we may as well be offending God.

The boy was holding up two fingers, then raised the third and said, “Okay, what is the third?”

“Oh, it is the most important silence – the silence of the heart, a silence that is the striving of quietude.”

“Quietude?” The boy still tilted his head when curious.

“Yes, quietude – the peace of the Lord, a stillness and silence that will allow us to listen to the Lord with the ear of our heart. It is a process we must learn and we can only acquire it by practicing silence. Only in silence can we hear the Lord and His calling for each one of us.

“Today man is consumed with endless activities, so much so, that he has no time for the Lord, or so he believes. But this is a fiction, a lie fostered by the demons. Yet man succumbs to this belief. When man is in trouble he calls on the Lord and expects His undivided attention, not later, but now. This is preposterous. Man is unwilling to give of himself to God, unwilling to give God an hour of his day, and yet he wants God to drop all He is doing and be attentive to man? Preposterous, absolutely preposterous. Man believes he is god when he acts like this. When man acts like this he is challenging God! Preposterous!”

“Yes, Abba, I understand, but what is silence of the heart?”

“Hmmm, oh yes. well, man must not do what the demons are asking of him. Man must learn to listen to our Lord with the ear of his heart. God is all-powerful. We learn this in the bible: “All things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made. In him was life….” (John 1.3,4)

“St . Benedict uses the word obsculta, to listen; he does not ask or request of his monks, or us, to listen to God, he directs us to listen. Our saint is simply repeating that which we read in Proverbs: “My sons, to my words pay attention.” (4.20) In Jeremiah we again hear our Lord telling Israel: “Listen to my call…walk in the way which I enjoin on you.” (7.23)

“My child, God demands we listen to Him. To not listen to Him is a sin. To not listen to God is a reflection of the evil hardness in our heart and we would be turning our backs on Him. (cf Jer 7.24) This, my child, is a sin. This was the sin at the fall of man.

“When I was a child and my father pulled me aside and said, ‘Listen…,’ I was being told to not only ‘listen’ but to ‘obey.’ This is what we must do when we listen in silence; we must listen and obey. Only in listening can we hear God and obey. One cannot do the latter without first doing the former. In order for us to obey, we must first learn to listen.

“It is no wonder, if man is too busy with earthly things and has no time for God, then man will never be able to obey God.

“My child, we learn in Romans (10.17) that if we listen to God our faith will grow and we will do His will and become His children (cf John 15.17). “Blessed are those who hear the Word of God and keep it” (Luke 11.28). What man does not seem to comprehend is that obedience to God counters the fall of man. Whereas man’s fall was caused by disobedience of God, man’s redemption can only come from obedience to God.

“Listening with the ear of our heart must become a discipline for all mankind. It requires work and patience, but no greater patience than that which the Lord has shown for and to us. The work will be difficult, but no more challenging than what our Saviour suffered at the cross.

“My child, our Saviour said, ‘Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me…for my yoke is easy and my burden is light’ (Matthew 11.28-30).” If we would only take the time to listen to Him in silence, away from the world’s noise, then He will talk to us, teach us, and we will be blessed.”

Surrealistic pillows

Could I not see her face –
Yet her backside was soft and translucent
as despite the chill in the air her cover lay nestled at her hip.
My eyes followed the curve of her body her skin a milky white luminescence
her shoulders bare that the nape of her neck was irresistibly inviting.
Drawn to her illumination if simply to place the warmth of a kiss upon her nakedness
I wanted to wrap her with the heat of my own and hold her through the night.
Yet as my lips pressed softly against the coolness of her skin
she to me eyes glistening that it was you and I awoke.
Is there so much love in my hearts realm
- That never gets a chance.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2009