The distance

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The distance

The distance

It is a blow to realise, as a lover of words, that talk can only accomplish so much. Were I to touch the infinite crevices between the stars and leap the dream-deep spaces between waking and childless sleep, I would be no closer to clarity. I could wade the swollen river while gnats frenzy the air and the moon makes the earth dizzy with his deceiving proximity, and I would have gained no ground. You could be right here now, in the doorway, jeans and open pores, weather and silence, a moment the depth of a year, and still I

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Wise words

Wise words

Let me preface this by saying that I am in love with words.  I love literature, I enjoy a good chat or discussion and I am a bit obsessed with language in general–names, etymology and learning new words or phrases I hadn’t come across before. However, taking part in an introductory silent retreat this past year opened my eyes to the ways in which we overuse language and how it is possible to communicate well, whilst saying very little. The thought of the silent retreat didn’t particularly worry me.  I was a bit nervous about whether I would just blurt

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