The Impossibility of Silence

"Holiness is a force, and like the others can be resisted."
      Annie Dillard, "A Field of Silence" in Teaching a Stone to Talk (1982)


1.

First thing in the morning
is the ringing of artificial bells
that once inspired H.D.T.
to cast aside "mechanical
aids" for wakefulness.

The daily glide & spin
creates a noise like
liftoff & sustains
through the hour
a tunnel's windy
rattle & hum.

Then there is the shouting
above the nonsense
of the braindead 
megaphone.

The internal
monologue always
warning that too much
talk might ruin even
the eagerest of ferns.

The click, the buzz,
the vibraphones
in every bag
& pocket
taking their
turns at
rippling
slightly the
delicate air.


2.

It is about this time
that one longs for the
desert's haunting emptiness
of sound, with footsteps'
constant pounding the only
sound external & the sole
saving thump of sanity.

To stop is to feel the heavy
drum of circulating blood
the hum of neurons firing.
leaping, gathering speed
to tips & return.

This terrifying solitude
is impossible to forget.
Nothing more frightening
than one's internal
holiness.

The only chance you have
is to run, and keep running
until sleep or its unruly brother
gathers the quietude around you
& hums the sound of a silent sea.


3.

But here, the gift of constant noise
keeps away the fearful quiet
(the voice of God?)
& headphones at the bedside,
a t.v. on the wall,
supply the soundtrack
of an always moving world
that spins us through
the night & at least
one more day.

This is Your Life

"Geography is key, the accident of birth."

Annie Dillard, "Life on the Rocks: The Galápagos"

from Teaching a Stone to Talk, p.124)


It happens this way: you become

who you were going be all the while.

There are hundreds of possibilities,

most are out of your control,

but the details are in your hands—

like the network of crisscrossing

lines & curves etched into your palms

year by year. You may add scars &

decoration, but the body is determined

by time & by place: geography, genetics.


There is no such thing as the unexamined
life, but honesty is as rare as selflessness.

Though neither are recipes for happiness,

they are the control you have day by day.

Be careful not to confuse humility & pride,

these twins will catch you off guard just

when you think you've figured them out.

Minute by minute, choice defines you,

but it is difficult to avoid the accident of birth.

As the universe continues to expand,

we buzz around a shrinking globe

unable to escape who we were born to be.

Take heart, no matter what parallel holds you,

that it might always have been worse:

you might have thought all the time

that you were supposed to be someone else.

  _________________________________________
This hasn't turned out to be what I intended yet. I've been reading a bit of Annie Dillard every day lately and the above sentence hit me hard because it brought together several thoughts that keep coming back to me: 1) the idea that a life has a trajectory that begins out of one's control and although a person makes a life out of the choices that she/he makes there is still so much that cannot be controlled, 2) because of those choices, a person's life might have been so much different than it ends up (by the way, though I think about those other possible live sometimes, I am quite happy with the one I have!), 3) I get so angry when people do not understand that by "accident of birth" inequalities abound; therefore, those of greater geographical birth-luck should calm down a bit, curb the fear, and tone down the political anger! I wish that latter thought could have made it into the poem.