Silent Hallelujah

Mt. Hood at dusk

  When  John and Rose visited us on their way home from a camping trip,  they offered to help  us hang our new curtains.  Rose measured precisely, and John worked the drill and the screwdriver until the finished project almost met Rose's exacting eye.  All the while, we talked and laughed.  I was a little hoarse with laryngitis, but happy.

John hanging curtains

      No sooner had they  pulled out of the driveway to go home  than Judy turned to me and said, "Stop talking!" She explained patiently but firmly that people with laryngitis can damage their vocal cords by talking.  There was only a hint of glee in her eyes.

Our local florist

    For the next four days, I didn't talk at all. I cancelled two planned phone calls with  friends back east and skipped choir practice.  Sheila and I still went for long walks, and I could see that it was disconcerting to her to have me  not reply to any of her stories.  As soon as we came into the house for our coffee, I started scribbling notes, trying to make the talk in some way a dialog.
     It was no problem to do my errands without talking, and gratifying to be mute when a clerk called across the room, "May I help you?" I think that's rude.   I always resist shouting back, and wait for the clerk to come closer.  This one had to come all the way to my side, and read my handwriting.

Our cherry tree

Pieris (Andromeda) at front door

     I have kept silence for days at a time on religious retreats.  There, the purpose and intention of the silence was to quiet the mind. This time, I let  my busy mind roll on as usual, and just didn't talk.   I was never lonely, because so many people, near and far, living and dead, populate my  inner awareness.  "Jack, how's your belly?  Marie, you're going to be all right.  Ann got a new job, good for her.  Aunt Helen showed me how to dice onions this way.  And that Mary Jean's florist--still in business after twenty years.  When we got married, and they insisted that Judy get a boutonniere to match my corsage."  My usual mind was not quiet at all.

    It's been a month now, and I still cannot sing.   I missed singing the Hallelujah Chorus with the church choir on Easter, and all those rousing Easter hymns.  I tried a few notes, and then had to soothe my throat by sucking on a cough drops.

Judy in new gloves

    Judy and I celebrated spring by buying new garden gloves.  Then we drove around Mt Hood, and came home to  appreciate our blooming yard.