BAMBOO - Andy and Leslie Orford

Quiet is a rare commodity in a house with a three year old, attempting to master language and emotion. Maybe like the worm my son found in a rain puddle today, to find quiet, one shouldn't have ears. It helps to also not have too many nerve ends or a mouth with which to scream as he innocently tears the worm in two.

Maybe the Cageian concept of silence is more appropriate, that is, to quiet oneself and listen with new ears to the sounds that surround you.

There is nothing like opening oneself to the outside world, then being confronted by a three year old demanding all his wants be satisfied immediately. As if they were the only desires to exist. Believing that your being told he loves you, all the compensation you need.

Oh, well, I guess we are all worms.



		Leslie and Andy Orford

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Quiet a state of mind an atmospheric quality an issue of perfection & relativity (the ear of the listener) or simply a matter of fact (to be detected scientifically) whatever_______ Motherhood seems to have sharply reduced my exposure to and involvement with this phenomenon. The cliché is "PEACE and Quiet", and I feel far removed now - suddenly appreciating how precious past experience has been. Lamenting and longing for the lost moments, and wishing to savor more now - relishing that healing space, soaking it up like a sponge, when it's there. Choosing no sound at times (especially the wee hours), realizing unchosen bombardment is coming all too soon. Other times, reading to remind myself to disconnect, recharge. All this chaos, psychobabble, demands on consciousness, distracting, disturbing, disrupting. The timetables, the lists, the calendars. And, all too often, the stress floods our systems. No wonder we don't remember the womb. These days it's become necessary to make time for the quiet to allow myself to be receptive to that nurturing energy, seemingly so basic. Yet, it's difficult to maneuver thru the MAZE to the illuminated center. No longer taken for granted, but a luxury - and a tool for regenerating the Shattered Spirit. Quiet, PLEASE.
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Quiet is a rare commodity in a house with a three year old, attempting to master language and emotion. Maybe like the worm my son found in a rain puddle today, to find quiet, one shouldn't have ears. It helps to also not have too many nerve ends or a mouth with which to scream as he innocently tears the worm in two. Maybe the Cageian concept of silence is more appropriate, that is, to quiet oneself and listen with new ears to the sounds that surround you. There is nothing like opening oneself to the outside world, then being confronted by a three year old demanding all his wants be satisfied immediately. As if they were the only desires to exist. Believing that your being told he loves you, all the compensation you need. Oh, well, I guess we are all worms.
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