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”
Ah, Celi….you are already a recluse. Just like me and most of us here. We speak dog, cat, pig, goat and sheep and chicken. I missed the page on social interactions, too. Love the library cause people there are quiet. When I read your post I felt like I was looking in a mirror. Until now, I thought I was alone…..Thank you for sharing. Never was a groupie. I think animals are so much more interesting and honest anyway.
I have a friend who loves to talk, and when I want a good old chinwag I go visit her. She can talk about anything, but she’s not a very good listener so I rarely need to watch my words because most of the time she’s not listening anyway. I love her to bits. But you see, my P and I don’t have long conversations over dinner or chat endlessly the way we used to. We pretty much finish each other’s sentences and guess what the other will say before we open our mouth. I once lost my voice for a few days, and we didn’t realise because I had no call to speak. But I write. Lots. And my head is filled constantly with conversation….most of which I disregard. But occasionally I’ll listen to myself and be pleasantly surprised. But me a recluse? No, don’t think so.
time outdoors, allowing your thoughts to wander as you work and talk with the animals, seems to me to be the best of days. Conversation with humans is grossly overrated more often than not!
Would love to live on a farmy where I could talk to big fat piggy liars and say the first thing that pops out of my mouth. Wonderful post, Celi.
enchanting blog
I can’t read all the other comments first – it will colour my response. Which is: yes yes YES! I don’t have a farmy, and I’m married to a man who has to have music on constantly, can talk for Ireland, will and has talked to cheese, talks to the dog and cats as if they know English… I try to keep things quiet and calm and have learned that when I’m truly ANGRY it is best if it write what I want to say, then edit it down into something that uses less F words and insults, but keeps my good points. Left on my own with no keyboard nearby and (usually) pints on board, I hurt people unintentionally. Speaking my mind and being honest seems like the right thing to do at the time. Ugh.
So no farm, but at least I’m away from ‘phones at work now, and I get to be alone when I need to and the rest of the time my boys in the warehouse never ever talk serious, and I love them for that!
I love that line: farm life is judgment free. What a great way to live!
What a beautiful, thoughtful post. I love your description of thoughts forming like images appearing in the darkroom. The ability to be solitary and content is a mature one, developed over many years of full living. It is wonderful and rare. Country people know all about this. It’s about going beyond image and persona and just being yourself. It sounds so spacious. I too love solitude, and when I’m at my bach I’m completely happy. I enter the company of trees, birds, sea and sky, and my bigger self emerges. I also love company, and being with people with whom I can have rich conversations. But I’m very selective these days.
Here’s a little gift for you: some lines from Wordsworth that I love:
That inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude
Your inner life is so colourful, and what a blessing it is that you have the blog to link with others in a way that complements your daily solitude.
The words that tripped off your fingers touched me deeply, inside. I like a solitary life most of the time, too. Talking is overrated.
The joy of the Commenters Lounge, and wonderful post that out of the glory of solitude and silence said something worth saying. We are as one, in our spaces and our solitariness. When I was younger, I enjoyed discourse and disagreement. Now, I don’t care what people think, I let them go their own way. They would have regardless of any unsolicited thing I said anyway. And it is so much easier to say nothing than to say the ‘wrong’ thing.
I cannot stand the social get-togethers where people sit around endlessly nattering for hours. Luckily I have a dodgy back and use it as an excuse to get up and wander around away from the conversation.
I too talk to animals, and they respond in their own voice, or in kind. It’s simple.
One if the best things about blogging is thoughts are shared and it’s up to the reader as to read, comment, think, act or not.
I love the words that come from your fingers, and the reported conversations you have with the animals. On my own quite a lot, I talk to myself, and in company I probably talk far too much. Every blogger I’ve met chats very fluently, and when/if you came to stay, I’m sure you’d talk nineteen to the dozen.
love,
ViV
Well you’re certainly great with words in your blog & express yourself so beautifully. I’ve found that I really enjoy time to myself now that I’m retired although I carry on great conversations w/my cat & dog.
I am slowly clapping Celi because you have made it so very clear that whatever happens you have what it takes and what it takes comes from within you . . . and you can trust this and that security and contentment will never go away . . . I was an only child from a busy family and I have always said I ‘growed myself’ up . . . so tho’ I can be quite impossibly lively [dare I say ‘noisy’ 🙂 !] at all gatherings the pure happiness oft arrives when I close the door to the world! It is SO wonderful and ‘healthy’ never to be lonely . . . lucky all of us who feel this way . . .
Nothing like a solitary life to clear the head and be in the Moment.
It’s actually very refreshing.
I live such a solitary life that I find it difficult, tiring & overwhelming to be in company where one has to concentrate on every single sentence.
I once had an old box camera and an old canon that I loved! My good friend back in the day had his own dark room and he introduced me to developing my black and whites! He had a nice enlarger too! What fun I had! A long long time ago! Black and white film was so cheap! LOL
This is why I like black and whites…Bare Bones…revealing its subject beyond immediate appearance. Layers of meaning and depth! Exposed and pondered in simple beauty. Then perhaps shared!
You have been in my head Celi! Ah living on a rural farmy! At first I thought I was disappearing… now I know myself better than I ever did before. I like my solitude. This doesn’t mean that I don’t love people or enjoy being around them. But I am comfortable in my own company. I like Bare Bones me! Without the fine trappings or status in society. Had my life gone in another direction…I might have missed this epic life I lead! LOL
My hubby is very quiet too. Farmers are. They know peace and value silence and don’t feel like they have to fill every minute with words. I find him easy to be with and his gentle dry sense of humor amuses me greatly! He calms my anxious heart. He soothes my soul.
Do I want to go back to the world of stress, competition, and conflict? No mam. I am happy!
Love all the photos today! Made me laugh and smile!
p.s. I do miss sailing and the sound of the halyards clanging….the long deep mournful sound of the fog horn… but the raucous noise and high paced life of the city? Nope!
“Big Fat Piggie Liar”!!!!! LMAO!!!! Definitely can’t say that to people! But the words do cross my mind! 😀 You should hear the colorful language that passes my lips when I hit my shins on something or smash one of my fingers! I mean…who the blankety blank hears me out here? 😉 From the gal who always said “Goodness gracious!” Loved the photos today!!! Big Dog looks great in his coat! The kids are enjoying life! It’s appears that chickens and pigs get along just fine! 😀 And eating well is good!!!!
Ta ta!