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Articulated

08 Oct

Back in therapy, for the first time in six years, and it’s getting somewhere, I think. I like the beige, comforting room with the double door; the mantelpiece with the clock that I can’t see; the window that looks out onto a hill where I can see lights from other windows, a set of traffic lights and a plane wheeling overhead. But I like having that space, that empty space – the space that exists between you and another person – the space where words can go, and you can fill the air with a thought.

I know it doesn’t work for everyone but I think it might be starting to work. It’s like walking down a long, curved corridor, and somewhere down the corridor there might be a door, eventually, though you can’t see where you’re going because of the curve, and all the floors and walls and ceilings merge into one great arc of space, where you know you are moving forward, but you don’t know much more than that.

I’m not a talker. I don’t like talking. But I need to. Like I don’t like running, but I run because it gets me something: pain, which is good; and burning fat, which is good; and a place where I can’t stare at my phone, which is good. I don’t like talking, but I talk because talking gets you to somewhere where you want to say what you want to say. Each pause brings you closer. If you’re always filling space before someone else speaks, or asking questions, it’s never going to change anything. You have to define the world around you, somehow, by talking, and if you don’t do it, you’ll never know; it will remain always undescribed, always unknown, or known only in a way that seems familiar or simple or safe, and maybe not the place it actually is.

My daughter describes the world through talking, though she only has a few words. She makes the sounds into music, and tells the world what it is. As soon as the words come out, they become what they are, and they tell her what to say next. She sees and speaks, unafraid to say the wrong thing or to get the words wrong or that someone might interrupt or talk over her; she speaks because it’s the joy of creating the world around you through the sounds you make and the things you say. She talks because she can, because she has to, because she does. I watch, and I learn, and I listen, and I copy. Your world is the people in it, and the love they bring. Your life is the music of the words. Listen, but always speak.

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Posted by on October 8, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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