A moment of confession...


..in that bethel of sound

I aroused my dark thoughts into silent invocation.

A small utterance of protest,

Against the darkening pall of wasteful words.

A thrown mass that held a storm

in its gravid deliverance.

The moist air heavy,  

abounding with consequence.

I held my breath,

and dove beneath the weight of sound,

to enter a deep sea of silence.

What do you have to say?

Will it improve on silence?

I have realised of late, that I use chatter like a bridge between meaningful conversation. To all of you that know me well, I can hear you having a chortle-"Well, um yeah, the girl loves a chat." It's true.

Ever since I was a child, I've talked too much. Every teacher said it, some debating whether or not I have anything worth banging on about. I use words to connect, to soothe, to scold, to lift, to lighten, to laugh, to protest, to ponder and to question.

Some days I never stop with the endless drudge of bloody words until I fall exhausted into bed, heaving big old sighs of wiped-out-sick-of-the-sound-of-my-own-voice.

Lately I've become more aware of the sheer volume of waste that pours forth from my muzzle. Just loose cannon blah-blah stuff that interrupts the quiet, it's made me question-

"Do I have anything to say that will improve on silence?"

I've begun to daydream about transforming into the strong silent type. Or at the very least, just the sometimes quiet one.


The truth is I love silence. The three am quiet that descends on the house. Hallways filled with soft breathing and stillness, a dog far-off. All is far away in that moment. Putting on my coat and stepping outside, black trees against an indigo sky, the gentle light of the moon, the grass seems laid out smooth.

In this soft, languid quiet it's hard to fathom anything other than a peaceful world.

I am reminded of my time as a painter. It took me many years to arrive at a balance point in my work. It's experience and a good dose of confidence that prompts you to leave space in a painting. A place to rest- it's like visual silence.

Why not apply the same principal to speech? "Will it improve on silence?" Or music, television, media. So much noise and distraction and entertainment. We have arrived at some strange place of fear- that silence might hold some uncomfortable truth at it's centre.

But what if all that it held was a profound state of peaceful awareness? Nothing more or less than that. I'm so desperate for a little space to rest...


Dog days and soft exotic silence...

IMG_1819 It's cold here, and grey. I'm having one of those dreary days where plans just don't come off and self doubt comes creeping.

It's a day for turning in, with the dog for company and something warm on the stove. Woolly socks and the soft exotic silence of an empty house....

A bunch of kale from the garden begs to be eaten, it threatens to give up it's crisp curly leaves if I don't answer the call. Today is not a kale chip day. It's possibly a potato chip day, but kale? Non. I need something to wrap my hands around, a big bowl of warm cheer-the-hell-up.


I have a good organic stock in the pantry and there's always a tin of beans around. Lunch will take minutes, I've no steam for fussy preparation. I rinse my beans and heat my stock to boiling. The kale gets a quick chop-over with a knife and goes into the broth for two minutes with the lightly smashed beans. I grate some garlic and good quality parmesan and throw it in too. A squeeze of lemon lifts the whole pot to perfection.

Lunch was eaten slowly and went a long way to restoring my vigour. The dog licked the bowl and took me out for a walk. Sometimes all we need is a little self nurture to see the days possibilities.

Michelle  xx