© 2011 Lynsey

Still, silence


I’ve yet to read any writing anywhere that has captured the seemingly relentless horrors from the earthquakes shattering our carefully constructed realities. My own writing has not fared any better. A number of mis-starts, fuddled middles, followed up by a hasty delete.

Many writers have opted for the lyrical approach – that nature is somehow getting revenge or there’s an evil master plan. I think that’s just some fluffy, infantile effort to put humans at the centre of the universe. And then there’s the act of god people, and I think that’s just as fluffy. And finally the news casters – the best I’ve seen was the young Japanese lad giving his English translation of the television broadcasts, seemingly from a studio set up in his bedroom – contrasting the local interviewers who, desperate to get a story (amidst the story of their life) kept asking people what did they do immediately after the person had just explained what had happened and what they had just done. Yapping like a puppy. Anything to fill the silence.

I think that what has made the real difference in these events, the untold story, is far too intimate to be caught by broadcast. Far too human.

It is in the countless tiny, simple stories that are played out everywhere, every day, all around the world.

I have my friend, my loved one, once again. I see. I touch. I hear them, taste them, smell them. I know that they are ok.

After the silence that rings deafeningly, I have them back, and I breathe, and I can hear my breathing.

For some, however, the silence still continues to ring.

Manifesto
06. Every day you make choices.
10. Every day connect with somebody.
18. Every day express love. Some people need to hear it. Most people need to see it. Don’t take it for granted.

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