The Strong Silent Type?

I have given some thought to shutting my digital mouth for a while.  A friend of mine made the decision recently to do this.  ‘Silent March’, which sounds compelling, like a black and white movie based on some sweeping tragedy, doesn’t it?

But when I asked myself what good it would do me I came up empty.  For someone who was born to communicate, to express, to give?  To be silent is to be only half-myself.  To choose to cease communication (in any form) is to choose a partial existence.  

Sure, I spout off at the mouth, I often exist in a state of communication diarrhea, I say too much, I say the ‘wrong’ thing, I put my foot in my mouth, I reveal controversial and even ignorant opinions, I make an ass out of myself, a fool, a spectacle, I get that.

But I guess what I’m saying is despite all that, I wouldn’t trade it.  Remember the old adage, the one about ‘better to be thought a fool than to open one’s mouth and remove all doubt’?  I’ve always admired the strong silent types in theory, the witty, dry ones who only seem to open their mouths to drop pearls of wit and wisdom.  I admired those folks.  The ones who seemed so certain and sure and RIGHT when they put tongue to voice.

(But in real life the silent types only serve to unnerve me.  They seem to be taciturn, they hold themselves back fromt he experience of life, almost as if they disdain the social company around them.  They feel unnatural, and not in the enviable Clint Eastwood way, but more like Javier Bardem in that movie where he says 'friend-o'.  Creepy.  Because they are closed off.  They reserve what makes them compelling--their humanity, their life-force.  I'm not saying you need to be a chatterbox, I'm not saying you even have to say anything I agree with, but to hold the tongue so firmly that it is in danger of atrophy?  To exist in a room but not participate in the ritual?  To be and somehow not be?  It chills the blood.  It puts the heart on edge.)

I blather on incessantly, often incoherently, and inconsequentially.  Sure, sure, sometimes there might be some rubies among the detritus, some diamonds sparkling amid the chaos and clutter of the leavings of my mind, but mostly I’ve decided that this blog is a lot like a sandbox for me.  Sometimes there’s some awesome work, but mostly it is for fun, it develops motor skills, it challenges the imagination, it sparks creativity, it is an activity of self expression, it is personal but it is not secretive.  It invites cooperative play.  It has few limitations and almost limitless possibilities.  It is a skill sharpener, and it is masturbatory.    It is cathartic sometimes, it is convoluded other times, it is circuitous and curious and crazed and craven, but it is cherished because it is mine.

So I won’t be taking any self imposed vow of silence, not now and hopefully not ever.  I realize that this means I’ll have to live with the consequences of my words.  Under the burden of them.  With whatever repercussions this will inevitably incur.    I sometimes can't decide which takes more strength; the speaking of one's Heart & Mind & Soul, or the withholding of it.  I vascillate between believing my unguarded tongue to be a silly, frivolous weakness, and feeling like Atlas, holding the weight of the world on the back of what I've said and expressed, and declared.  Maybe we should change the popular expression to 'The Strong Outspoken one.'  I think I like characters who have some of both of that.  Like Obama or Fictional President Jed Bartlett from The West Wing, or Shakespeare's Prince Hal.

Of course, at this stage, I'm sure I'm no Prince Hal.  I'm more akin to Falstaff, or worse yet, weaving inconsequential yarns like my old pal Nick Bottom.  But hey, I challenge anyone not to fall in love with that charismatic Ass!

There’ll be crushed toes, I know it, there will be wounded pride, there will be tails between legs and humble pie to eat, and back-pedaling, and clarifications, and satisfaction will be demanded.  I know this.  But I need to live fearlessly.  I need to throw open my arms, my heart, my head, and use the voice which is given me. 

It isn’t a paragon of vision and prophecy or anything, but it is mine.

And it is Thoughtlessly perfect.  And it is Carelessly Beautiful.  And it is, on some days at least, Effortlessly Magnetic.