When I met The Hub many moons ago, in a pub in Dublin that we used to visit there was an old couple we used to notice, or a couple who seemed old to us then, they were probably younger than we are now.
They used to sit in the corner, mostly n silence, drinking a slow glass of Guinness, his a large one, hers a half-pint, watching the antics all around them. And barely talking to each other.
They fascinated me.
They seemed so content. They held hands, which was the only sign of their togetherness but it was a beautiful clasp, light but with the depth of decades in it.
I don't know if they had consciously thought it through. I suspect it was instinctive. But now that I am their age or older, I am in their camp. Of course, we all need to speak but so much of the babbling chatter that we do is unnecessary.
And our need to break silence looks a little compulsive.
Only those who are truly comfortable with each other can sit without speaking. And when we do speak, the truest words emerge from silence, and carry something of silence in and around them.
That is the theme of this month’s exclusive poem for my patrons: the truth that can only emerge from deep silence.
If you would like to read the poem, you will find it on my Patreon page.
If you've been motivated, moved or inspired by my writing or any of my work, please consider becoming a patron.
If you already do support, then a deep bow.
Thank you. Sonas mór leat. Namaste.