Hello, Darkness, My Old Friend

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That’s a depressing title, isn’t it? I’m so sorry. It sounded way cooler in my head.

It was also the first thing that came to mind after I thought “Well, here it is, eight minutes to midnight, and I haven’t written a blame thing. Just like every other night. Ever.”

Sometimes I think I should just write “I made it to the end of another day of my existence and all I wrote was this stupid blog post” and leave it at that.

It was a good day. A wonderful day. A fun day. But all you get is this stupid blog post. For which I apologize, and I promise I”ll do better.

Someday.

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3 responses »

  1. “I’ve come to talk with you again.” Even when you think you have nothing to say, you still inspire! I’ve just listened (twice already this morning) to one of my favorite oldies from 50 years ago … “The Sound of Silence” (Simon & Garfunkel, 1964). Beautifully written and performed. I hope you have another good day, wonderful day and fun day. Love you.

  2. The Dadster Ripostes:

    And of course, my mind immediately went back 50 years to the early days of Simon and Garfunkel:

    “Hello Darkness, my old friend,
    I’ve come to talk with you again.
    Because a vision softly creeping,
    Left its seeds while I was sleeping.
    And the vision that was planted in my brain
    Still remains,
    Within the sound of silence.”

    Perhaps the more relevant portion of that song for our own generation was the third verse:

    “And in the naked light I saw
    Ten thousand people, maybe more.
    People talking without speaking,
    People hearing without listening,
    People writing songs that voices never share
    And no one dared
    Disturb the sound of silence.”

    We are a world, a generation, filled with people talking past one another, never taking time to listen because we are all too busy telling others what we think about ourselves.

    “‘Fools,’ said I, ‘You do not know –
    Silence like a cancer grows.
    Hear my words that I might teach you.
    Take my arms that I might reach you.’
    But my words like silent raindrops fell–
    And echoed in the wells of silence.”

    In so doing, we create not a heaven on earth; but a hell of our own making that consumes not just ourselves, but the generations yet to come:

    “And the people bowed and prayed
    To the neon god they made.
    And the sign flashed out its warning
    In the words that it was forming.
    And the sign said, ‘The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
    And tenement halls.’
    And whispered in the sound of silence.”

    So, my little one, be slow to speak, quick to listen, and ready to reach out to those around you who are hurting.

    Love,

    The Dadster

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