I discovered an interesting thing about myself while I was away. Maybe I knew it along.
Have you ever worked in an old fashioned darkroom. With film, good old fashioned honest film. You expose your image with a light projector through the negative and onto the photo paper, then in your dark room you slide that blank paper into the developer, it is like water in a tray and gently you rock the developer tray up and down, up and down with the paper moving gently in the fluid until the image, like slow magic, begins to appear on the paper, it is distant and faded at first but soon it becomes clear and sharp. Soon you see exactly what you have and all the things you did not mean to have. Largely Un-edited. Complete.
Then you wash it through a tray full of water, working your way down your counter and then into another tray that holds the fixer. The fixer solution seals the image to the paper. Then you wash your finished photograph in water again, and dry it. Then you look at it and think about it.
Sometimes my thoughts are like this. I have to rock them for a while in the solution – letting the image slowly form then move these thoughts through all the steps until they are crystal clear and allowed out into the light to dry. And be considered.
I learnt that I am no longer afraid of being alone. In fact after days of normal family life this last week, I found myself floundering sightly. Unable to find the words. Resorting to the kitchen for my expression.
I almost always say the wrong thing. After years and years of saying the first thing that came into my head, I find myself choosing my words more carefully now that I live in a foreign country. Then slowly my words sigh back into the silence. I listen more. Wait. Nod. Watch.
I find I have lost the ability to join conversations. After the long hours of silence that accompanies my days I find that I need to search for a word. They will trip off my fingers but not my tongue.
I have become solitary. Or at least my ability to be solitary is clear now. It is something I am good at.
I find it easier to talk to animals. Though I seldom use actual language. Or even English for that matter.
I think many old fashioned farmers are like this. We move our cows, calling them through the gates, we walk about the sheep feeling their cool noses and watching them walk, we watch the pigs leaning on the fences saying good piggy, good fat piggy.
Except when the biggest fat piggie breaks into the chook-house. You forgot to put the barrier thingy back up, miss c. Hmm. Did you eat all the eggs Sheila? I ask. Never, says Sheila. Big, fat, liar piggie.
See you can’t talk to people like that – especially with an accent. But I can do it all day long with the animals because they don’t care what my words are they only listen to my tone. When they hear the laughter tone in the words – that is what they feel – laughter.
There is an etiquette for talking to people. I missed that page.I was absent that day. My gaze is just a little too direct. My answers just a little too considered. My articulation a little too precise as I feel about with my tongue for the word that would make sense. My silences just a little too telling. I take what people say at face value. My sense of smell is so precise that I have trouble controlling the flare of my nostrils and that little lift of my chin as I follow a scent. My hands are too busy. There is no delete button for my mouth. So I am careful with it.
This is why I am better out here on the prairies. This is why farmers like us have hair that sticks up all over, nothing but chapstick on our lips, we tie up our pants with baling twine, and wear odd socks and slop about in boots.. not fancy cowboy boots but mucky gumboots. Farm life is judgement free. Cows don’t care.
I have discovered that I have come a long way from my High Street life. And I am realising that I may never be able to go back. One thing I know for sure.. I eat well. But quietly. Lucky Our John is the Silent One. Lucky for me that I have you. When we write we can make sure our words are what we mean.
Left to myself.. would I become a recluse?
Would you?
Have a lovely day. I will. I do.
your friend on the farmy,
celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
78 responses to “The lack of chatter in the box”
I would! (For now I have the boys dragging me out of my shell though.) I whole heartedly second your gratitude that there is this community in the ether that listens, and responds.
Lovely. You obviously have no problem at all with the words that come out of your fingers instead of your mouth. And the ability to be solitary and happy is the product of an adult and peaceful mind…
Some days, I like to have someone near me, but not interacting with me. In my own thoughts, but not lonely.
Beautifully written and thought provoking. Sheila looks good too 🙂
Oh boy – you and I are surely soul-mates. I am exactly the same Celi, well except for the part about owning a farm.
It is the very reason I am writing my next book, as I am not able to eloquently or adequately verbalise what I need to get across before it all goes haywire! And by haywire, it could be emotions getting completely out of control, or being interrupted before I can finish what I need to say and for the most part because I lose my words between my brain and my mouth and a zillion other reasons.
Have a beautiful quiet semi wordless spoken weekend.
🙂 Mandy xo
I find it easy to slip into silence too since I enjoy being solitary but the presence of others and the energy of groups rouses me. There is much to gain by listening and by being heard.
I enjoyed the reminder of photo-processing days – there is indeed a special magic in the red darkroom.
Yup.
Thanks.
Part the aging process, I suspect. Crossing into the second half of life brings about listening rather than talking, actions rather than words. And part, I have dicovered in these post motherhood years, that while loneliness is not welcomed, solitude is.
I love what you’ve owned up to and what Marmepurl says about it. I agree. I find that my relationship with language is changing a lot. A whole lot. I write my blog, yes…but honestly, I myself don’t care so much what I have to say anymore and it’s not lack of self-esteem…it’s just a realization of just how far words can go (or not go) and how many are already out there. I’m interested in feelings and finding a better way and finally, finally learning, maybe, how to really show love with fewer words and often none at all. I feel a great deal of comfort and, strangely, company in reading this post and what everyone has to say about it. After all, here in this fellowship, we are all partners in a silent world. Thank you.
I clicked on the “Like” button … however, I wish there was a “Love” button. Wonderful post.
I am not good at the talking, although I do too much of it. But I am too direct. In my mind I am just being clear. When other people dont say what they mean but dance around the subject, being nice and kind I get confused and wish they would just say what they mean. I suspect it is me not them. I have learnt to keep my mouth shut whilst I think about things. Then I write if I need to work through something. If I get angry I write an imaginary letter but never send it. I wait, and go back to it and change it and after a while I dont need to send it, after a while it looks slightly ridiculous which means I am returning to reason! I debrief my work in this way too. If I have had a difficult client I come back and write copious notes. The act of writing makes one focus on the essence of a thing, talking it through means we often talk all around it and never drill down to the real issue. Writing it down means you have to be succinct. Sometimes I think I am better in writing than I am in real life! Well if my spelling was better I would.
Your post is so heartfelt Celi. First know that you are perfect, even though being from another country with a very different accent might be difficult at times here. I think become a listener instead of a talker is quite an achievement, actually. Something more of us human beings could benefit from, that’s for sure. And being content in oneself, in solitude, is also very wonderful indeed! xo
What do you mean would I? I am don’t like even going to town 7 miles away! 🙂
be a blessing mike
ssshhhhhhhh
Celi, today you shook your box of tricks and pulled me right out! I am solitary and happy to be on my own, and my dad always telling us kids (long ago) to “mean what you say, and say what you mean” coupled with an impulsive nature probably resulted in me being quite blunt. I too am much happier conversing with animals, and yet there are people that I can communicate with and quite often without words. Perhaps its is the animals complete acceptance and lack of judgement that we all seek to soothe us. Really good post, I will be back to read it again I’m sure. Laura