Jessica Bibbee

Posts Tagged ‘silence’

20160814

In aphorism, proverb on 20160814 at 23:55

When a spoiled mood makes for sour words, silence is more fruitful.

A hypocrite is /not. 

The fool know not the extent of their reach. The wise know the extent of their impact. 

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20141002

In aphorism on 20141002 at 23:55

The silence of the many gives power to the voice the few.

Rushing water will slow.
Stagnant water will stir.

20111012b

In aphorism, proverb on 20111012 at 18:35

Sometimes truth is found in silence. Sometimes truth breaks the silence.

20111012

In rumination, tale on 20111012 at 13:14

《Sink or Swim》

This is the story of how a child, a boat, a voice, and a choice found each other:

On some days, the sun shines and the wind blows.

It is on these days that boats float and children dream.

On the breath of the wind, billowing white clouds moved with silent excitement across blue skies and gazed deeply over still blue waters.

Far down below, a Child found a boat, and soon found herself afloat in the boat. But for shame, as the child would soon also find herself in a boat with a leak.

The stillness of the water slowly, but surely, greeted the shell with its silent entrance.

And so the Child did what only the Child could do, and that was to lift the water out again to the expanse of the blue.

Stymied, the Child thought, “I just wanted to go for a sail, but instead, I find myself with water to bail.”

A Voice said to the child, “It seems that would make you a plumber, not a sailor.”

The truth in these words so captivated the Child’s mind that the Child didn’t stop to question from where the voice came, but continued moving the water.

With a sigh, the Child replied, “‘Tis true -but I haven’t a choice, have I? I can only hope to stay afloat. How can I even dream of sailing this boat?”

“Oh, but you do and you can!” said the Voice. “You do have the choice to go overboard or to give up your dream. But, either way, you must abandon the naiveté with which you first boarded this boat.”

In silence, the child continued to empty the water from the proa back into the blue.

“Shall you jump ship and learn to swim? Or shall you give up your dream?”

The Voice waited.

The rhythmic sound of water leaving the boat ceased.

The Child peered into the water, leaning over the edge of the boat. And for the first time, the Child caught sight of her own face in the undulating mirror.

But in doing so, the Child had rocked the boat, to the point that more water threatened to claim its whole. And without thinking, the Child quickly returned to the center of the boat, seeking balance and stability.

The rocking slowed, and the Child at last spoke. “I must lead with my brain, but I must also follow my heart.”

Splash! The boat rocked once more.

And the silence that ensued was followed only by a ripple so large that spread so far, that its waves reached well beyond the limits of her shore.

20110730

In aphorism, linguistics, proverb on 20110730 at 09:40

Every artist needs an agent.

Language is spectacular for the reason that it doesn’t need to make sense in order for it to have meaning.

The fool continue to water the shriveled plant.

The fool close their eyes to deny the darkness of night, as delusional in the absence of light as the ostrich who invites the night by burying his head in the sand at midday.

A fool farmer asks the rooster not to crow.

The fool silence the siren, suppressing a response in a deluded effort to deny a disaster.

Freedom is sacrificed in the name of safety and security, which are victim only to pride and honor.

20110224

In aphorism, proverb, rumination on 20110224 at 11:50

Fear finds the able man lame.

Mankind is not born with equal ability, but without equal opportunity, true ability is never to be.

Life bears only the rules we impose on it.

Silence is often, not a slight, but a stall.

One needn’t give up sight of the pear to savor the peach.

The distant rose bears no thorns; but neither is her scent to be savored.

The curse of the woman is simply thus: if a she is to truly know a man, she must sacrifice her flesh that he might share his mind.

Great is the leader who can unite foes, not in purpose, but in recognizing similarity, extending fellowship, and furthering understanding.

Make-believe in childhood makes belief in adulthood.

20101205

In aphorism, proverb, rumination on 20101205 at 15:48

Truth is transparency.

No democracy without transparency.

Democracy without transparency is dictatorship in disguise.

Subversion of the people is the greatest treason.

Who alone stands up to a government deserves the highest honor.

The government that wields its weapons against its people, yields implosion of the nation.

Truth cannot be silenced, only construed.

Who has something to hide, has something to reveal.

A smile is a heart worn outside; a frown is a heart worn out.

Where is knowledge gained, is responsibility assumed.

20090701

In aphorism, proverb on 20090701 at 01:37

The fascist smashes an egg to silence the rooster.

A god is willed only as the self is willed.

20060131

In poetry on 20060131 at 23:10

《the sex of poets》

The sex of poets emanates –
flowing as without edges,
contagious as without knowing;
words play
back and forth –
a rhythm, ever changing,
follows whereby one leads
until the pull of the next.
One moment
as without definition,
nor clearly sided with neighbors –
rolling one to the next.
Beckoned without call,
it is from a distance that
one sees deep into the heart
where life seems both
to stop and start, again –
without pause and
with the haste of lovers
kept at bay, unwilled.
The words sear clear,
sharp and pure.
They exist alone,
and yet are fed
by the hunger of ideas
yet tossed,
yet exposed –
as if the virgin ever lived
within the eyes of the soul;
forever waiting,
forever with hunger –
fresh as the moment to follow.

The sex of poets lingers
past the setting sun
into the morning dew,
where one knows not for sure
if the climax be truer
at the final release of
thoughts never felt, – or
perhaps at the time
of response; the
lover’s words, a compliment,
meshing with, as if one.
Almost beyond a reality,
the words live on
to dance without end,
to breed a careful song –
as if in tales of lore,
existence never certain.
Fleeting, though strong;
Skirting, though present –
The moment speaks not
of tangible truths
that speak of tomorrows,
but rather the window
rarely looked into –
it is there
it is waiting,
but cannot be taken with you,
nor fed to the mortal –
only to continue
in the souls of lovers –
perhaps truer than
the love of lovers itself.

The sex of poets preys
upon the passion saved
over years and decades
desires of the flesh
never satisfy the wound
of ages past
of pains neglected
merely masking in mum
the yearning ever mounting
to release with a single
sound
The silence is broken,
fears relinquished;
the rebirth of hopes
fills the air –
thick with the essence of now
and hint of next,
never to be sure.
The bliss lies within,
ever longing.
Separate worlds entwined –
an affair of the id
within…
Never lucid to the searching,
but in control.
When no longer logic bids you
surrender, at last call
with bursting souls;
hungrier still, the eve –
power of the word
has finally come, the time.