The tide is high in my mind this night as I stop to ponder the rhythms of life. Why does there exist such struggle between people? Do language, culture, beliefs or values create clashes or is it something more natural, more organic that generates friction? When you talk am I listening? Are we on the same wavelength? Is that manner of speaking metaphor or a literal variance in waves of thought?
Answers without questions. Questions with no audience. Being alone when in close proximity to a dozen people. Who understands? Who keeps in time with the pace I run? Why the disconnect in communication?
Ah, yes, written word. How splendid, how sublime to write in frenzy, to articulate the cascading thoughts to be sorted and straightened in methodical manner for others to receive. How much clearer the voice filtered by time, testing and revisited before the premiere of another post, this one slowed by the very nature of delivery in written form to the reader.
Have you ever found yourself in a conversation that seemed as if two radios blaring at each other with no audio input device? Strife in the work place, contention in the home, sparks between neighbors. We all face it in some form or fashion. How human, how profane this act of communication, this means for relation. Are we so advanced that we can write with eloquence our lofty thoughts yet stumble and muddle through the day with those by our side? Are we functionally blind, deaf and dumb in our ability to relate? Or do we run at a different rhythm and pace, on different strokes of time?
Perhaps there is a language of time we have yet to learn. Do we know our own rhythm and recognize our syncopated movements with others of kindred spirit? If we listen closely, does the sounds in our home, the conversations at work not resound with the rhythms of life? Are these not songs of laughter and ovations of a job well done?
What then becomes of our lives, day-to-day, as we run ever nearing to its conclusion? Did we learn the new language, hear the new rhymes, accents and inflections of this concerto of life? Or do we drone along and cover our ears when we hear some dissonance between singers, people voicing their part? Little may be perceived but the banter of souls wrestling with trivial thoughts. For those who hear the song of the heart and the vocals of the living, let’s learn, let’s listen and join the anthem.
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